


It's in the way you say my name

by no_tengo_porque



Series: Days Fall Apart [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hipster Jean, Humor, M/M, but mostly - Freeform, jeanmarco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-05-22 18:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 58,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6090061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/no_tengo_porque/pseuds/no_tengo_porque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean Kirschstein is pretty sure he's straight and not into his best friend, Marco Bodt. Which is why he's having a hard time understanding just why he made out with him at a party last night.<br/>Really, all Jean wants is for things to go back to normal. Instead he gets wild parties, a dumpster rendezvous, awkward make-out sessions and fists-fights.</p><p>Or: In which Jean finds out just why he loves the way Marco says his name.</p><p>"Jean sees the glass raining down and then turns to look at Marco. His eyes are trained on the spectacle before them, but he must sense that Jean is looking at him because he turns to face him.<br/>For a few seconds, they are looking at one another and Jean just knows that it’s all in his face. That what he feels for Marco is etched on the curves of his mouth and his widely opened eyes. That Marco can see him and understand that they belong to each other, some way, somehow.<br/>But that only lasts for a mere moment, and when Marco diverts his eyes to look back at Mikasa, Jean knows it was all illusions and tricks of the light and nothing more."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Accidents only happen to those who don’t attempt to prevent them (Sunday)

**Author's Note:**

> There's no need to read any of the other fics in Days Fall Apart to read this one.  
> Having said that, this work takes place on the same week as "Last night's dreams are tomorrow's disappointments," although this is from Jean's POV and focuses solely on him and Marco.
> 
> As always, for Asuka and Asuka only.

“Don't you think that we were beautiful?

Don't you think that I'm your friend?

I'll be the first one to tell you a lie

Wait until I know who you are

Waiting for a shot in the dark

Nothing that you're used to”

-Palo Alto by Devonté Hynes

 

 **Jaeger @ PARTYBUS! :**  
It’s already past midnight!!!!! God fucking dammit Kirschstein get your metrosexual ass ready. S’not like anyone cares how you look.

 

 **Armin Arlet @ PARTYBUS! :**  
Eren, don’t be rude my child

 

 **Jaeger @ PARTYBUS! :**  
>:(

 

Jean rolls his eyes. Sometimes he wishes he had never joined that stupid message group. But without his own car, he doesn’t have much of a choice. His mum almost never lets him borrow the Subaru.  Connie doesn’t make things much easier with his constant meme posting. Jean sends a text telling Eren to go fuck himself, and then sends another text to Marco outside of the group-chat.

 

 **You:**  
Sorry I’m late. I have some problem picking out clothes

 

 **Marco Polo:**  
Don’t worry ;)  need some help?

 

Jean laughs at Marco’s atrocious use of emoticons but decides that some help would actually quicken his decision. Jean sends Marco a voice note describing his outfit, burgundy pants and a black t-shirt. It’s not his fault that he attempts to look decent, unlike Jaeger who basically owns one pair of jeans, or at least that’s how it seems.

"So yeah. What jacket should I wear with the outfit?" Jean asks his phone, sorting through his closet.

Marco texts him back a couple of seconds later.

 

**Marco Polo:**

Jean

 

Jean stares confused at his screen for a moment before sending another voice note.

"What, shouldn't I wear a jacket? It's cold outside," he says. A few seconds later his phone buzzes.

 

**Marco Polo:**

No, jean. As in jean.

 

Jean is pretty confused by now and he's about to ask Marco if he's high or something when his phone buzzes again.

 

**Marco Polo:**

As in a jean jacket, Jean haha :D

 

Jean laughs at the misunderstanding and texts a ‘thank you’ back to Marco. Once he’s dressed, he grabs his keys and puts them in the back of his pants. He texts Marco to come pick him up and then goes to the bathroom to comb his hair.

He goes downstairs and almost makes it to the door with a swift ‘goodbye’ when his mum calls him from the sofa. Jean sighs and turns towards her.

“What _maman_?” Jean asks her. His mum is currently sitting on the couch while watching one of her reality shows. Jean guesses it’s ‘Dance Moms,’ since a woman is screaming at a bunch of girls dressed as ballerinas.

“Where are you going?” she asks in her slightly accentuated English.

“To a party. I told you before,” Jean answers simply.

“With whom?”

“Marco, Jaeger, Reiner… the usual bunch.”

“What kind of party, Jean?” Jean is battling the urge to roll his eyes.

“I don’t know, _maman_ , a party sort of party,” Jean tells her instead.

“Is Marco going?” she asks. Jean swears he can feel a vein pop due to pure frustration.

“Yes, mum. He’s going, he’s driving me there,” he says. His mum nods approvingly.

“Ah _, d’accord_ ,  Jean. Tell me when you get home, and come give me a hug.” Jean sighs, but hugs his mum nonetheless because he’s not an asshole.

Marco is already waiting for him outside when Jean exits his house. He can feel the bass of Reiner’s electronic music even from a couple of meters away. He opens the passenger door only to find Jaeger sitting on his spot.

“That’s cute, Jaeger. Get out of my seat,” Jean says. Jaeger literally hisses at him.

“Listen, asshole. I called shotgun a long time ago. You wanna know how long ago? About 20 minutes ago, when Marco went to look for me, and the rest of the guys. We always have to wait for you and for what? So than you can just waltz in here with your lame Parisian hipster aesthetic and expect us to give you the best seat, I will not stand up for this, Kirschstein, I WILL NOT,” Jaeger rants. Jean is too impressed by the fact that he just used to word aesthetic to really care about his insult.

“Okay, seriously now, get out,” Jean tells him patiently. Eren rolls his eyes and jumps to the backseats without getting out of the car, proving once again that he is a fucking feral child. Jean prays for patience and understanding.

“I like you Parisian hipster aesthetic, Jean,” Marco says, lowering the volume of the stereo. Jean smiles involuntarily and looks away.

“That’s because you have good taste,” he tells him. Jaeger groans and Jean ignores him.

Marco smiles at him for a second, then turns towards the four guys in the back of the car. Jean turns around too to look at Reiner, Bertolt, Armin and Jaeger struggling to fit. Marco’s car is pretty spacious but Reiner and Bertolt alone take most of the room there. Jaeger is currently squashed underneath Reiner’s elbow.

“Everyone buckled up?” Marco asks.

A unison of grunts is the only positive answer that Marco receives, but he seems fine with this.

“All right then, let’s roll,” Jean says, “let’s get to this stupid party.”

“Pump up the volume,” Jaeger says. Jean rolls his eyes at the poor taste of music in everyone present, but he turns up the volume.

“We can listen to acoustic music on the way back,” Marco tells him with a comprehending smile.

Jean is, as usual, thankful for the existence of Marco Bodt.

*

*

*

The party is okay. Some guys from a rival school are hosting it, and they've only been invited because Reiner and Bertolt know them. They have a spacious garden and plenty of people but Jean has been to some of Historia's house parties and really, this is nothing compared to those.

And the music, of course, is pretty much a crime against humanity.

After a while of pretty much just chilling against a wall, Marco disappears somehow and Jean quickly grows bored.

"Having fun?" Armin asks him. Jean has spent most of the party smoking and drinking, secluded in a corner of the garden. So he can't say he's having much fun.

"Have you seen Marco?" He asks Armin. He shrugs.

"I some him chatting with some guy. I don't know really. Have you seen Annie?"

"Russia is here?" Jean asks intrigued. Not that he has anything against her but she isn't the sort of girl to go out partying.

"Yeah. Well, at least that's what she told me," Armin says.

"Oh, you guys talk a lot?" Armin blushes and shakes his head.

"We just... She's in my chemistry class so we started texting. That's all," he says. Jean laughs.

"She's pretty. Scary, definitely. But pretty," he tells him. Armin just nods, clearly embarrassed but attempting to conceal how flustered he is. School crushes suck balls in Jean’s opinion, but that’s probably because his feelings have never been returned.

Jean thinks of Marco then and he cranes his neck to take a quick glance around. Nothing. They usually spend most parties together, unless one of them finds some girl to hook up with. And Marco almost never hooks up. It's really strange.

"Shit, there she is," Armin whispers. Jean sees Annie, dressed in white, skintight pants and a white top. She's wearing high-heels and she's still a head shorter than most people.

"Go talk to her, stud," Jean tells him. Armin glares at him before nodding and turning to walk towards her. When she sees him, her usually serious face softens. Jean sighs and resolves to spend the rest of the party drinking himself to a state of apathy. At least he won't be bored like that.

*

*

*

Jean is completely wasted by the time he finds Marco and it’s mostly accidentally. After he gives up on finding him, he attempts to light a cigarette only to realize he can’t find his lighter. He traces back his steps, searching for a lost lighter but ends up finding Marco instead.

He's chatting with some random guy, laughing at whatever he's saying. At one point, the guy leans in to whisper something into Marco's ear and Jean feels strangely uncomfortable with that.

"Marco!" He shouts and runs towards his friend. Marco looks slightly taken aback by Jean's presence, but he smiles nonetheless. Jean side-hugs Marco and clings to his shoulders. The other guy looks unimpressed.

"Is he your..?"

"No," Marco comments quickly, "this is Jean. He's... He's my friend." The other guy nods.

"What? I'm not just your friend," Jean complains, still clinging to Marco, "I'm your best friend. Like a brother, but not really. I wouldn't want us to be brothers, that’d be weird."

"Okay, Jean. Have you been drinking too much?" Marco asks him amused.

"Nah, I'm fine," Jean says, holding him tighter.

"Why don't you go lie down, John," the other guys says. Jean glares at him.

"It's pronounced Jean. It's French," Marco corrects him. Jean laughs, because there’s something incredibly funny about this whole situation, he just hasn’t figured out what that is yet.

"I love how you say my name," he whispers into Marco’s ear. The other guy scoffs.

"Friends, huh?" He says, and then turns to leave. Marco doesn't stop him, but he looks slightly frustrated.

"What's wrong?" Jean asks him. Marco shrugs him off, apparently pissed off, but then sighs.

"Nothing. Just... Forget it Jean. Let's go sit down.” Jean nods and walks with Marco towards a more secluded place. They sit against one of the walls of the house. The only people near them are a couple frenetically making out against a tree. When they see Marco and Jean, they awkwardly walk away.

"You drink too much sometimes," Marco chastises Jean. Jean lays his head against Marco’s shoulder. Right now, Jean has surpassed the stage of drunk that makes you feel sort of tingly and warm and is currently neatly tucked in between ‘marvelously dizzy and uninhibited,’ and ‘holy shit, I’m about to puke.’

"You're drunk too," Jean counters.

"Not as drunk as you, dummy," Marco says and laughs. They settle into a comfortable silence, but something is making Jean uneasy.

"Why where you talking with that guy?" he asks Marco.

"His name is Peter," he tells Jean, “and he is really nice.”

"That's a stupid name," he argues. Marco laughs, petting Jean’s hair softly.

"You're just used to weird names, like Historia or Bertolt. Peter is actually a common name."

"That doesn't mean it isn't stupid. It sounds like a shitty name to shout when you're about to climax," Jean argues.

"What the hell. Why are you even thinking about that?"

“Names are important, Marco.”

“I still don’t see how…”

"Like, honestly, picture this. Oh Peter! Fuck me Peter," Jean moans abruptly. Marco laughs and shoves Jean away.

“Shut up, idiot. Someone’s going to hear you and be _really_ confused.” Jean smiles at him.

“Oh, come on. Admit it, it sounds weird,” he argues. Marco shakes his head.

"And why is Jean any better?" He asks jokingly. Jean turns to glare at him.

"Are you serious? Jean is an excellent name to shout in bed. It’s French, it’s inherently sexy." Marco shakes his head and looks at Jean. He hadn't realized how close they were until he found himself looking into Marco's eyes.

“ _Jean_ ,” Marco sighs softly. Jean heart’s skips a beat when Marco says his name, and feels heat pooling inside of him. Weird.

“So?” Jean asks him, feeling strangely out of breath, “Isn’t it sexy?”

"Jean _is_ a sexy name," Marco whispers. He sounds drunker than Jean realized.

"Yeah," he says. And Marco is so close that he could count his freckles if he wanted to.

He's done it before, when they were younger. There were 54 in total. He wonders vaguely if the number hasn't change.

"Alright," Marco whispers. Something about the way in which he says it sounds so intimate that Jean's spine tingles pleasantly.

He must lose conscious for a second there or something, because he can't remember who lunges forward or who starts it. One second they are there, and the next one he's kissing Marco Bodt with a hungriness that astounds him.

It's a messy kiss really. There's no cute pecking or gentleness, no finesse or elegance to it.

It's just primal, all savaged and untempered. Their teeth clash, their tongues intertwine, they bite each other. Jean can feel saliva falling down his chin but he isn't put off in the least. He sucks on Marco's tongue and Marco whimpers and fuck, it's almost too much.

Jean grabs Marco by the waist and pulls him towards his body until Marco is almost straddling him.

Then Marco pushes Jean against the wall, their bodies press close together.

Jean is really dizzy. Arousal and the alcohol flowing through his veins are making him far too warm and hazy. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a voice is telling him that this isn't really okay. Jean doesn't ignore the voice but he doesn't really listen to it either.

"Jean," Marco whispers above him and that just spurns Jean even more. He experimentally ruts against Marco and they both sigh into each other's mouths.

Marco's hands are underneath his t-shirt, touching his abdomen, when Reiner shows up.

"Holy shit," he says. Jean is still too confused about the whole thing but Marco quickly pulls away, breathing hard.

Reiner is standing a few meters away, looking very shocked.

"You guys are gay or something?" Reiner says, laughing. He sounds very awkward.

"No," Marco whispers as he moves away from Jean, "we're just. We're drunk."

Jean is drunk, that much is true. But he knows that he doesn’t just make out with people because he is wasted unless he sort of wants to when he’s sober.

"Right. Just drunk," Reiner says smirking, "although, Marco, you were supposed to stay sober, remember?" Marco remains quiet for a second, then curses softly.

"Yeah. You're lucky that I didn't drink. The guys want to get going, so I came to look for you two," Reiner tells them.

Jean wants to complain. He doesn't want to leave just yet. He wants to keep making out with Marco, because he knows that once they leave, this isn't happening again. And he really wants it to happen again.

Even as drunk as he is, he can rationalize that.

"Right, let's go," Marco mumbles. He turns to Jean and offers him a hand to stand up. Jean takes it. He wishes his pants weren't so tight, because there is no way to hide his hard-on with these pair. Not that he cares that much, anyway.

Reiner looks at Jean and laughs.

"Was that because of the alcohol too?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at Jean.

Jean just shrugs in response. Marco sighs and starts walking towards the street, still holding Jean's hand. Reiner follows next to them.

"Please, don't tell anyone about this," Jean hears Marco whisper to Reiner. Reiner grunts in response, which isn't exactly reassuring.

Jean doesn't really get why no one should know about what they just did. But he nods anyway. When they are close to Marco's car, Marco let's go of Jean's hand and walks away from him. Jean misses the contact.

"The keys," Marco says, handing Reiner his car keys. Then he rapidly walks towards the car where Jaeger, Bertolt and Armin are all waiting for them.

"What took you all so long?" Jaeger complains. He's looking directly at Jean, like he's the one to blame. Which is sort of true. But still, what a dickhead.

"Sorry," Marco says. He still hasn't looked at Jean in the eyes ever since Reiner interrupted their kiss.

"They got busy," Reiner says grinning, "also, Bodt is drunk so I'm driving." Jaeger shrugs, like he doesn't care.

"I thought you never drunk, Marco. Like Mikasa," he says. Jean wishes Jaeger would shut up about Mikasa for a second. He always manages to somehow inject her into any topic. It’s not that he doesn't like her; he actually likes her more than he probably should, but Jaeger’s monumental crush on her is verging on pathetic.

"I don't. I shouldn't have. It was stupid of me. I'm sorry," Marco says sounding truly pitiful. Jean wishes he wasn't so upset.

The ride home is silent. Jaeger is drumming his hands on the dashboard while Reiner drives. In the backseat, Jean is pressed against a sleeping Bertolt and Marco. Armin is staring out the window with a dopey smile on his face, so Jean guesses he had a good night. Mostly, Jean wishes he hadn't drunk so much. Reiner is a pretty good driver, he drives smoothly. But he's also fast. Jean can't help but feel sick.

"Are you okay, Kirschstein? You look a bit green," Jaeger says. Marco turns to look at Jean, concerned. It's the first time he looks at Jean since they got in the car.

Jean is about to say that he's fine, when he realizes that he really isn't. He tries to keep it down, but he can't. Turning around, he pukes into the trunk of Marco's car.

"Oh my God, Kirschstein, you're disgusting," Jaeger says laughing.

"Gross," Reiner grumbles. Jean dry heaves, clutching the seats while attempting to calm himself down.

"Fuck, sorry," Jean says.

"Jean, it's okay," Marco whispers soothingly while rubbing circles on his back. Reiner opens the car's windows and sighs.

"I'm driving Jean home first," he says. Nobody argues with that.

When they reach Jean's home, Marco helps him out of the car, walking him to the door. Jean feels a bit better, less drunk, which of course means regret is starting to cloy his mind.

"Sorry I threw up in your car," Jean whispers. Marco is mostly holding all of his weight, grabbing him by the waist while Jean has an arm thrown over his shoulders.

"That's fine, Jean. I don't really mind," he tells him. He grabs the keys from Jean's pant pocket and opens the front door.

"I'll help you up to your room, yeah?" Marco whispers, carrying Jean inside. They go upstairs quietly. Marco avoids the third step, which always squeaks when stepped on, without Jean having to tell him. He probably knows this house as well as Jean does.

They manage to make it to Jean’s room without waking anyone up. Jean throws himself on his bed while Marco seats on the edge of it. The light coming from the window in his room illuminates Marco’s handsome profile and Jean can’t help but stare at it. He sighs and takes Jean’s phone, quickly texting his mum for him. It takes him a while it seems, he keeps having to correct his clumsy spelling.

“Take off your clothes, Jean,” Marco says softly while texting. Jean shakes his head.

“I don’t want to,” he tells Marco. Marco sighs and leaves the phone aside. He crawls over towards Jean, reaching for his t-shirt. Jean lifts his arms up and allows Marco to remove his t-shirt, then watches as he undoes his belt’s buckle and pulls down his pants.

“Shit,” Jean whispers. Marco looks up at him, flushed. Jean moves forwards, grabbing Marco by his shoulders and pulling him on top. He tries to kiss him, but Marco moves away quickly.

“Jean, don’t do that,” he whispers.

“You don’t want to kiss me because I puked?” Jean asks him sadly. Marco shakes his head.

“I don’t want to kiss you because you’re going to hate me for this in the morning,” he says quietly.

“I would never hate you, Marco.” Jean kisses Marco on the cheek, but Marco pushes him away.

“You’re drunk, Jean. Go to sleep.” He stands up and walks away, leaving a half-naked Jean alone in his bed. Jean closes his eyes and in mere minutes he falls asleep.

His last coherent thought is of Marco sighing his name, right before kissing him.

*

*

*

Jean wakes up at 5 pm with one hell of a headache. His mum enters his room to ask him if he needs an aspirin.

“You shouldn’t drink, _mon chou_. You’re too young,” she tells him. Jean shrugs.

“ _Maman_ , you started drinking when you were like sixteen,” Jean argues. His mother shrugs.

“Ah, it’s different in Europe,” she tells him and then turns to go. She leaves Jean’s bedroom door opened, which doesn’t surprise Jean in the least. He groans and reaches for his phone, checking for messages. Most of them are from Marco.

Usually, Jean would open them without a second thought but something makes him hesitate. If he opens the message, Marco will know he read them. And for some reason he doesn’t want him to know. Why is that, though? Jean thinks of what sort of threatening things those messages could include. Then it dawns on him.

Last night. He made out. With Marco fucking Bodt.

Jean shoves his phone away and covers his face with his arms. He remembers exactly all of it, the way in which Marco said his name, the jealousy he felt when seeing him talk to another guy, how he threw up in the trunk. The kiss. He remembers the kiss so clearly that he can’t help but feel slightly turned on. Which is _really_ not a good thing, because Jean isn’t gay.

Sure, he can tell when guys are handsome, and he knows that Marco is attractive. He knows when a guy has a nice looking body and he finds the view pleasing himself, but it’s just like when girls look at models. Jean knows that most girls in his class always watch the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Model and comment on how ‘hot’ the girls are.

That doesn’t mean they are lesbians or anything, it just means that they aren’t blind.

And okay, maybe the idea of kissing a boy had crossed his head, but he’s pretty sure that everyone feels that way at some point. He likes girls. He knows that for a fact. He likes looking at their bodies. He feels attracted to them.

And Marco is his best friend, after all. Perhaps the only reason why he kissed him was because he felt comfortable with him. Maybe.

Jean’s phone buzzes. When Jean looks at it he realizes that it’s another message from Marco. Jean sighs. It terrifies him, the idea of having to face Marco tomorrow. It should be easy, really. Marco isn’t interested in him in that way. He’s straight. Like Jean. They should just laugh it off, act like something dumb they did when drunk.

And still, Jean can’t bring himself to read the texts waiting for him. Not yet.

Turning his phone off, he crawls out of his covers and walks towards the kitchen. He doesn’t bother to check his phone for the rest of the day. 


	2. Like secrets on the tip of your tongue (Monday)

“Oh, you saint

America don't love you

So I could never love you

In spite of everything

In the dark of this place

There's the glow of your face

There's the dust on the screen

Of this broken machine

And I can't help but feel

That I've made some mistake

But I let it go”

-Ya Hey by Vampire Weekend

 

The alarm clock does not wake Jean up. It’s his dad who knocks on his door the one who manages to do so.

"Jean, Marco is waiting for you outside. _Dépèche toi_!" He shouts. Jean groans in response.

He doesn't really want to share the ride to school with Marco. He’s still feeling slightly troubled with the whole situation. But he guesses it's far better to get it out of the way as quickly as possible.

Plus, he's probably just making a big issue out of nothing. They'll be laughing about the incident in a couple of weeks. Hopefully.

Jean is thankful for school uniforms, something he never thought he would be thankful for. They do come in handy when you're running late. He puts on some deodorant and attempts to tame his hair on his way downstairs.

Taking a deep breath, Jean opens the door of his house and walks towards the Corolla waiting for him.

Marco is busy fiddling with his iPod, but he looks up when Jean opens the car door. For a moment, he looks silently at Jean, scrutinizing him with his eyes. Jean feels uncomfortable, something he never thought he would feel when it came to his best friend.

"You're getting in or..?" Marco says, leaving the sentence unfinished. Jean nods and gets in. He puts on his seatbelt and attempts to look relaxed.

Marco is staring at him, Jean can feel it, but he doesn't turn to verify whether he's right or not.

Then Ezra Koenig's voice fills the car and Marco starts the engine.

"Did you have time for breakfast?" Marco asks, not unlike a concerned mother. Jean sighs.

"No, but we're going to be late if we don't hurry, so whatever," he says. Marco shrugs.

"We can afford to be a bit late. I need coffee and you need nourishment," he says. He hands his iPod to Jean.

"Today we're doing Vampire Weekend. You can pick whatever song you like," Marco points out. Jean nods.

The thing is this is almost like their everyday routine. Jean picking the music for the ride, Marco driving then to get some donuts when they are in the mood for it, the aimless banter and silly jokes they share on their way to school. It is almost like it usually is, but something feels foreign and plastic to Jean. Like they are putting on a play. It doesn't feel honest, and Jean wonders if Marco is as worried about what happened yesterday as he is.

He thinks that, perhaps, talking about it would make the tension dissolve and they could go back to normal.

Instead, he picks 'Ya Hey,' from Marco library and sits quietly, looking through the window.

"I love this song," Marco says. Jean nods.

"Yeah, it's my favorite by them," he says.

"My favorite one," Marco says, "I think is 'Diplomat Son."

"That's a good song," Jean agrees.

"I like the part where it slows down and then it picks up the pace again," Marco further elaborates.

"You mean when he sings 'That night I smoked a joint with my best friend, we found ourselves in bed, when I woke up he was gone'," Jean sings along. Then he realizes what he just said.

Silence grows after that and Jean's mind begins to whirl dramatically. Did Marco say that on purpose? Is he insinuating something? 

Or is Jean overthinking everything? No, it’s definitely just his imagination. He’s like an English teacher looking for meaning where there is probably nothing. Probably.

"Should we go to Starbucks?" Marco suggests, staring straight at the road ahead.

"Definitely," Jean sighs.

Starbucks is just a couple of blocks away from their school, but they are already running late.

Jean is so distracted that he doesn't even realize when Marco orders for him.

"White mocha espresso and a marshmallow dream bar," Marco says, handing him a coffee and a brown paper bag.

"You paid for them? Let me pay back." Marco shakes his head.

"No way," he says, "my treat." Jean smiles at him, because that is just so typically Marco, and he smiles back at him for the first time today.

Jean feels oddly warm inside, but he blames it on the hot beverage. When they get back in the car, their talk feels more real and relaxed.

They walk into school 15 minutes late, coffee in their hands.

"Can I try a piece of your dream bar?" Marco asks, as they walk towards History class. Jean feeds Marco a piece of his treat.

"You like it?" He asks. Marco shrugs.

"Too sweet for me. I'll never understand why you like your stuff so... Saccharine-filled," he says with a smile. Jean shrugs and looks away.

"What can I say. I have a penchant for sweetness."  
*  
*  
*  
Fortunately, Bossard is late for class too due to some freakish incident involving potatoes and, of course, Sasha and Connie. Jean doesn't dislike Bossard. He understands why he has limited patience, given he has to teach people like Sasha Brauss and Ymir. But his classes are excruciatingly boring.   
Jean loves History, he does. But Bossard is really making it hard on him. It's much worse when he can hear the other class stomping their feet while chanting "The Internationale" at the top of their lungs. Class 'C' has Schultz, one of those young, precocious teachers that haven't somehow lost their joy of teaching and actually want their students to get involved (even in the most ridiculous of ways). Jean is sure that the fact that he’s handsome actually enhances the learning experience. For the female students, that is.

Meanwhile, they get Bossard who Jean is pretty sure is not correcting exams right now, but actually playing Sudoku.

The door of the class opens and in come Sasha and Connie, looking very much like criminals who don't regret their crimes at all. Bossard glares at them.

"Erwin gave you detention?" Bossard demands. Sasha frowns.

"Yeah. We have to stay late on Wednesday to clean the desks," she says.

"And the toilets," Connie adds mournfully.

"Good," Bossard says calmly, "now sit down." 

Sasha and Connie sit down sighing in unison. Taking a scissor out of her backpack, Sasha begins to carve something on a potato. Her actions are hidden underneath the desk and away from Bossard's eyes.

"Why the fuck is Sasha carving a potato underneath her desk?" Jean whispers to Marco. Marco is scribbling something on his notebook but he turns to look at Sasha.

"Oh yeah. I heard it's a metaphor," Marco tells him.

"For what?" Marco shrugs in response and smiles. Jean rolls his eyes and goes back to staring at Sasha.

She must sense the fact that someone's looking at her, because she turns to look back at him. They stare at each other in silence for a few seconds. Then Sasha smirks and throws something at him.

The thing hits Jean right on the head and falls to his desk. 

It's a piece of bubblegum. It looks normal but then again, most of Sasha's and Connie's pranks start innocuously.

"Are you eating that?" Marco whispers. He is so close that Jean can feel his warm breath against his neck and he shivers involuntarily.

"I think it's a prank gum. Like the ones that turn your tongue blue and stuff," Jean warns him. Marco looks at the gum suspiciously, but eventually shrugs and he unwraps it.

"I don't think Sasha would do that to us," Marco says as he places the piece of gum in his mouth. Jean shakes his head in disapproval. Marco is far too nice and gullible sometimes, thinking the best out of everyone.

It makes sense that he's Jean best friend. Jean has always been far too pessimistic and cynical, and Marco's optimism keeps them balanced in a way.

"Is it good?" Jean asks. Marco chews on the gum for a couple of seconds more and opens his mouth.

It looks as pink as it usually does.

_Jean kissed that mouth a day ago._

"It's fine," Jean whispers, feeling suddenly awkward. Marco seems to catch Jean discomfort, because he looks at him with slight concern. Jean ignores him and turns to face the front again.

He doesn't turn to look at Marco for the rest of the class.  
*  
*  
*  
Jean is hating Monday. The usual laidback, comfortable vibe he gets whenever he's with Marco has suddenly turned into an extremely tensed one. And all because of one stupid kiss. Make out session.

Whatever.

The rest of the classes, whenever Jean looks at Marco he can't help but feel a dangerous cocktail of emotions: confusion and regret featuring predominantly. But there's also certain warmth inside of him that courses through his being, settling in his abdomen, whenever he thinks of kissing Marco.

He doesn't want to analyze that feeling.

If they just talked about it would be incredibly easy. It was some silly mistake, nothing else. But the more they avoid it, the bigger the hovering cloud of discomfort grows above them.

Jean needs to grow some balls and just ask him about it. That's all there is to that.

As soon as they get a moment alone, Jean will expose the situation. 

Like everything else, it will probably seem far less scary in the daylight.   
*  
*  
*  
He chickens out, in the end. Marco catches up with him in the cafeteria and coaxes him towards the table were they always have lunch together. Sometimes Sasha and Connie join them, but today they are lucky enough to have it to themselves. So that they can talk seriously.

But the fact that they actually have a chance to talk about it makes Jean freak out even more. As soon as they sit down, Jean's mind starts churning and turning, thinking of a way to escape, even when a part of him knows that they _need_ to talk about it.

He's always been a coward, unfortunately.

"Hey, Jean. You there?" Marco says. Jean looks down at the pasta plate in front of him, then at Marco.

"Yeah, what's up?" He asks.

"You seem weird today. And I... I was kind of wondering why you were acting like that," Marco starts quietly.

"This pasta is fucking inedible," Jean comments, cutting off Marco.

"Oh. Well, it's not that bad if you put a lot of salt and parmesan cheese into it," Marco says. Jean nods, grateful that Marco fell for that.

"I'm craving for some Chipotle, honestly," Jean says, "we should drive there tomorrow." Marco nods.

"Sure, whenever you like. Your hair looks nice today, by the way." Jean touches his head unconsciously at the compliment.

"I thought it looked messy and flat." Marco shakes his head, munching on some lettuce.

"No, it looks natural. I like it," Marco says. He touches Jean's hair then, threading it though his fingers softly.

Like he did last night.

Jean backs away quickly. Marco stares at him, hand hovering just a few inches away from Jean's face. They look at each other, both clearly embarrassed. Jean takes his eyes off Marco, because he can't look at him right now.

"Jean, about that party..."

"Ackerman," Jean exclaims. Marco looks at him strangely.

"What?" Jean sees Mikasa Ackerman sitting with Armin and Jaeger by the tree they usually sit by.

It's the only excuse he can think of to get himself off this situation.

"Mikasa is there. I'm going to go talk to her. You know, flirt a little bit," Jean says awkwardly.

Marco just stares at him silently.

Marco knows about Jean's attraction towards her, but he isn't naive and he probably knows that it's just a very lame excuse.

"Okay," he says softly, "go to her then. I'm sure you'll woo her."

What hurts the most, really, is that Marco says that without a drop of sarcasm and bitterness. He actually wants Jean to do well with her. Something about that makes Jean feel drained and sad.

"Alright," Jean says. He stands up and walks towards the tree. He actually has no clue about what to say to Mikasa. He doesn't usually talk to her unless he has some sort of excuse.

But she has already seen him walking towards her, and he knows that it's too late to back down. The idea of turning back to face the pending chat with Marco is actually more nerve-wracking that making a fool of himself in front of his crush.

Jean approaches the trio, keeping his eyes trained on Jaeger who for no apparent reason is running around the tree like a goddamn idiot.

"For fuck's sake, will you ever calm down Jaeger?" he says. It’s an ice-breaker of sorts, Jean figures. Insulting Jaeger always makes him feel better.

"What's up, Vomit-stein?" Jaeger says smirking. Jean frowns.

"Can't come up with anything better?"

"He's not the smart one, you see," Armin says. Jean likes Armin, he’s a cool guy. He laughs and watches as Jaeger glares at his best friend. Armin shrugs.

"Anyway, I was wondering about the Potato Incident, as some have come to call it, from this morning,” Jean says, suddenly inspired, “I heard you had some info, Mikasa." It’s a lie, of course, but Mikasa usually does know what’s going on around school. Plus, Jean is pretty sure that she’s friends with Sasha. He’s seen them out of school together.

"You're invading the Tree," Jaeger tells him, "outsiders are not welcomed."

"The tree?" Jean asks, confused.

"The Tree. We named it like that. It's where we always have lunch," Mikasa clarifies. Jean nods at this. He wonders whether Marco is looking at him right now. Just in case, he leans in closer to Mikasa.

"We're busy, Kirschstein. Why don't you just go?" Jaeger says, clearly threatened by Jean’s presence. Jean resists the urge to roll his eyes, but really, Jaeger is such a little asshole.

He tenses when he feels Mikasa closer to him. She’s so close that he can smell her flowery perfume and he can’t help but blush.

“I’ll tell you later,” she whispers into his ear. Jean feels heat spread across his face. He smiles at that. Any other day, Jean would have loved to have Mikasa so close to him. Something isn’t quite right today.

"Alright, tell Sasha that next time she makes a prank to tell me,” Jean says, standing up, “I want to see what she comes up with.” He turns around and walks back to Marco, who is currently picking apart a slice of tomato.

“It went well, didn’t it?” he whispers, uncharacteristically gloomy. Jean feels a pang of guilt, knowing that it’s somehow his fault that the Marco ‘actual-ray-of-sunshine’ Bodt is upset.

“It went okay,” Jean says shrugging. Marco nods, but stays awfully quiet for the rest of the meal.

Jean still isn’t sure if he prefers it that way or not.

*

*

*

Football practice is utter bullshit. Jean gets stuck in a team with Jaeger because Principal Erwin is looking to incentivize ‘team work’ or something like that. Jean understands that getting well with your teammates is important, but regrouping them so that they are stuck with the people they dislike the most is stupid.

Most of the match is filled with stupid mistakes, like Sasha passing the ball to Connie at every chance and vice versa when they are playing opposite to one another. Or Jaeger never stealing the ball from Mikasa because the idiot keeps forgetting that they no longer play for the same teams.  He dislikes not being able to play with Marco. They’ve been playing football together since first grade, and no teacher has ever put them in opposing teams. It’s incredibly frustrating.

The match climaxes when, while trying to steal the ball from her, Mikasa gets her hair on Annie’s face. Annie freaks out and she pulls Mikasa’s hair, hard. Jean is pretty sure she actually tore some out. Mikasa retaliates with a punch to Annie’s face. The rest of the team just stares dumbfounded. Jean is sort of terrified, really. The worst thing is they are actually supposed to be playing for the same team.

"You should just shave off your head, you stupid _mandavoshka_ ," Annie tells Mikasa. Everyone gasps, even though nobody speaks Russian. The venom in Annie’s voice is an insult in itself.

What ensues is even more dramatic and Jean briefly considers the idea that Sasha and Connie are putting on some very elaborate prank on everyone. Coach Levi decides to kick both Annie and Mikasa for the rest of the match and Jaeger complains that Mikasa shouldn’t be kicked out because she didn’t start the conflict. Jaeger is clearly not considering the fact that his friend freaking punched someone. Right on the face.

"You're always blaming Mikasa for this shit, that isn't fair!" Jaeger shouts at Coach Levi. Mr. Smith cuts him off by calling his name, or really, growling his name. Jean never thought that Mr. Smith could get this scary, really. He finds himself sort of enjoying the drama.

In the end, Mikasa, Annie and Jaeger are all kicked out of the field. Jean’s team has to leave a player out for the rest of the game. They leave Connie out because, seriously, that guy is unable to play against Sasha.

“That’s sweet, really,” Marco says as Connie goes to sit down on the stands, “how they can’t seem to be able to go against each other.” Jean shakes his head.

“It’s not sweet, it’s stupid,” he argues. Marco laughs and Jean feels a little bit lighter for some reason.

“Ah, my lovable cynic. Never change, Jean,” Marco says.

“Don’t worry. I never will.”

“Are you guys done flirting? We have a game to play,” Ymir shouts at them. Jean can feel his face blush at the comment and turns to face the other way.

“Then let’s play,” he shouts back, and he walks back towards his position. The game is much less dynamic without Mikasa’s speed and Jaeger’s aggressiveness (or as Marco calls it, ‘enthusiasm’) but it’s still enjoyable. They all have to play harder to make of for the lack of players. At some point, Jean accidentally passes the ball to Historia, forgetting she plays for the opposing team. He curses and turns to find Reiner smirking at him.

“Confused about which team you’re playing for, Kirschstein?” he gloats. Jean is confused for a second, but then he remembers Reiner being the one who found Marco and him when they were kissing. The way in which he’s teasing Jean feels slightly like a threat. A warning. He _knows_.

Jean isn’t a violent guy, but he really wants to punch Reiner at that point.

“Ignore him,” Marco whispers, suddenly by his side. Jean clenches his fists and sighs. He tries to enjoy the rest of the game, but Reiner’s taunts really did disturb him.

Once the game is finished, Jean and Marco walk together towards Marco’s Corolla. As soon as they get in, Jean breathes in and turns to face Marco. Marco starts the engine and turns to looks at Jean.

“We kissed,” Jean says simply. Marco is silent for a moment.

“Yeah,” he says after a moment has passed. Silence falls again, not awkward, but definitely off in some way.

“Can we like, pretend it never happened?” Jean asks quietly. Marco shrugs, looking away.

“Of course. What other option do we have?” he says. Jean nods and Marco pulls out of the parking lot.

_What other option do we have?_

They don’t speak for the rest of the ride, but when Marco drops Jean off he seems more like his usual self. Less anxious at least. Jean kind of feels like crap, but he doesn’t understand why.

He got what he wanted, after all.

“Bring cash,” Marco says as Jean exits the car, “we’re going to Chipotle tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Jean sighs. He walks back to his house slowly. His leg muscles hurt and he’s tired. Very tired. When he reaches the porch of his house, Marco is still there, looking at him from the car. Attempting to analyze him, perhaps. Jean waves at him and Marco drives off.

Jean feels like sleeping for a week.

 

 

 


	3. Let’s just pretend we know what we’re doing (Tuesday)

 

 

“And I know what's on your mind

God knows I put it there

But if I took it back

We'd be nowhere

You'd be nowhere again

Now look at you all torn up

I left you waiting to bleed

I guess the truth works two ways

Maybe the truth's not what we need”

-Cold Arms by Mumford & Sons

 

He feels much better the next morning. That is, as long as he ignores the nagging feeling of guilt mixed with some undefined emotion that he could place if he wanted to, but would rather not.

Jean gets up earlier than usual and drinks coffee while acting like he’s reading the newspaper. His mind is a bit too fuzzy and confused to make out proper sentences, but it helps to make him relax even more. When Marco comes to pick him up, he gets in the car confidently and quickly claims the control of the iPod.

"What are we listening to today?" Marco asks him as a form of greeting. Jean shrugs.

"Indie folk?"

"Something upbeat or happy, though," Marco warns him. Jean smiles. Admittedly, he is really into sad, heart-wrenching music, but he knows that Marco's car is a sacred place where only good-mood music should be played

"Of Monsters and Men?" Jean asks.

"Isn't that too mainstream for you?" Marco jokes. Jean groans as he presses play to 'Sloom'.

"Please, I have enough hipster jokes coming from Jaeger. And metrosexual jokes. And vomit jokes now, too, unfortunately," he complains. Marco shakes his head.

"Eren thinks you're metrosexual just because you don't wash your hair with soap. Don't pay attention to him," Marco says, stopping to let a bunch of kids cross the road. Jean sighs.

"You didn't have time to fix your hair today either?" Marco asks, turning to look at him. Jean looks back, surprised.

"What? Oh yeah," he says.

Really, he just thought it look good like that, with a sort of messy, just-out-of-bed look. And not because Marco complimented him on it (really, thinking about it, Marco does compliment him a lot and he thoroughly enjoys all those praises and maybe…)

But, no. The hair has nothing to do with Marco.

"Does it look bad?" Jean asks, even though he can already guess the answer. Marco still turns to look at him appreciatively and smiles.

"No. I really do like it like that, no joke," he says.

Jean has to bite the inside of his mouth to stop himself from smiling at that.

*

*

*

Classes are interesting enough. That is, for high school standards. First he has chemistry with Miss Hanji, followed by biology, also with Miss Hanji. Really, Jean doesn't know if the fact that Miss Hanji is the only science teacher for upperclassmen is impressive, due to Hanji's extensive knowledge on all things scientific, or really sad, due to the fact that their school could only find one decent teacher for their science department.

Classes with Hanji are always fun though, she's overtly-dramatic and she praises every student, even when they make mistakes. Connie, for example, has managed to pass all of Miss Hanji's classes despite blowing something up accidentally at least twice a month. Hanji seems to think that that proves Connie's skills in Chemistry, because not many people can make a potato explode when testing for starch.

Jean actually has an ongoing bet with Marco, on when will Connie activate the school's fire alarm due to a mishap in the lab (this has happened twice during the year. Jean predicted one of them and won himself four bucks and a packet of mint-flavored bubblegum).

"I bet ten bucks," Marco says as they walk out of their biology class, "that Connie will blow something up next week in chemistry. That boy can't be allowed near acids." Jean laughs and nods.

"Oh that's too easy, Marco. I'm going to bet that lab assistant Moblit will have a nervous breakdown before the end of this month. The loser pays for the winner’s dinner." Marco smiles.

"And with what money would you buy dinner for me? You know, when you lose the bet," he says smugly. Jean snorts.

"I've been saving up, from cat-sitting Mrs. Ferguson's Siamese monstrosity. I mean, I'll even get you some Pinkberry if I lose."

"Wouldn't it be better to use that money on something more useful?" Marco says suddenly serious. Jean looks at him strangely. Marco looks deflated now, like a sunflower that spent too much time away from light. It's quite a surreal view. Jean has only witnessed a troubled Marco when finals are near. And even then it doesn’t quite look as sad as this.

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jean asks, sounding angrier than he means to.

"I don't know," Marco says quietly, "maybe you should ask out someone who is worth it."

Jean takes a moment to mull those words over before he sighs and grabs Marco by the arm, surprising him. Maintaining a firm grip, he pulls him away from the corridors and out through an emergency exit. They walk down the stairs, Marco tripping on the steps while attempting to stop Jean. In the end he gives in and he follows him to the school parking lot.

Ymir is there, for some bizarre reason, sleeping on the back of Sasha's pick-up truck.

"Okay, what is that...? What the hell do you mean by someone 'worth it'? You don't consider yourself worth investing on, like, seriously Marco what the fuck?" Jean says, exasperated. He's angry and he doesn't even know why that comment ticked him off so bad. But it did. And now he finds himself clutching Marco to stop him from running away or something stupid like that, attempting to understand just why he would say something like that.

"I didn't mean... Look, what I mean is that, you know. Maybe spending money on, like, Mikasa? You know, why don't you ask her out on a date instead of... Hanging out with me?" Marco says softly. Thinking back on yesterday's events, Jean feels like he stepped on a puppy. He never meant to hurt Marco, ever. He just wanted to avoid speaking of that stupid kiss, which is somehow managing to destroy their relationship. Friendship. Friends relationship.

"Are you kidding me? Of course I would rather spend the night with you, you're like my favorite person in the world, dude," Jean tells him. Marco smiles feebly, but he looks just as sad. Maybe even sadder.

"And either way," Jean adds quickly, "Mikasa is pretty, yeah, but she's clearly in love with Jaeger. And Jaeger loves her back, the idiot. Really, I'm not interfering between those two."

"I'm sorry. I overreacted. Really, I'd love to go have dinner with you," Marco tells Jean, smile just a little warmer. Jean feels his face heat up, and he knows that he's blushing lightly.

A part of him is screaming that blushing when your friend asks to hang out with you is not normal. That feeling deliriously happy about seeing your bro smile at you is not common. That wanting to kiss a dude is not a super straight thing to do. Jean is trying his hardest to ignore that voice and stop over thinking this situation, because Jean isn't gay, he really isn't.

Maybe.

No, he isn't. He's 90% sure that he isn't.

"Was that a weird thing to say?" Marco asks, sensing Jean's discomfort. Jean shakes his head.

"No, you didn't say anything weird," he says.

And he really didn't. This is exactly how they speak to each other, perhaps a bit too friendly, but Jean has never questioned it before. Before _that_. Really, that kiss is ruining his life.

"Jean... About that party thing we said we would never talk about," Marco starts.

"Emphasis on _'never talk about'_ , man. Just leave it, it was just two straight guys being drunk and stupid," Jean cuts him off. Marco is taken aback by that comment, and he opens his mouth to protest when a noise interrupts him.

"Did you guys kill a hooker or something? I always did say that it's the nicest looking ones the most likely to end up going all Jeffrey Dahmer and shit," Ymir says, climbing off Sasha's truck in one smooth movement.

"How much did you heard?" Marco asks, mockingly suspicious. Ymir laughs.

"Just something about drunkenness and stupidity. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me, as long as Jean lets me borrow a cigarette," she says, stretching her long limbs to shake off the sleep.

"When you say borrow..."

"I mean I'm never giving it back. Come one, Pony-boy. Play nice." Jean sighs at the third horse-related nickname he has received that week and pulls out a packet of cigarettes from his bag. He throws it towards Ymir.

"I prefer Virginia Slims," Ymir tells him as he hands her his lighter. Jean raises an eyebrow at that.

"What's with that face, motherfucker, don't think I'm lady enough to smoke me some Slims?" she says, lighting up a cigarette. Jean smirks at that.

"So are we like, skipping class?" Marco asks, slightly tense. Jean isn't much of a rebel, but right now missing one class doesn’t seem like a bad idea. He has Math anyway.

"Guess we are," he says shrugging. Marco sighs but smiles nonetheless. Ymir rolls her eyes at them.

"Wow, you guys are so radical, skipping classes and shit. So cool, you guys," she says, her sarcasm unnecessarily dramatic.

"Well, we're well behaved, can't blame us for that," Marco says smiling even brighter. Ymir huffs but Jean knows that sort of smile and it's usually followed up by an equally sarcastic remark said in the sweetest way possible.

"Although," Marco adds after a moment, "you aren't even skipping classes, Ymir. After all, you always go out for a nap or a smoke on Tuesdays, on your _free period_. But don’t worry; I don't think that following the rules makes you any less of a misbehaving badass." Ymir looks at him stunned and he smiles sweetly.

"Bodt, you're shady," she says appreciatively.

"Yeah, marshmallow puppy on the outside, slightly more evil marshmallow puppy on the inside," Jean says, lacing an arm around Marco. Ymir just laughs.

"Oh man, did you just describe Marco or Historia? Seriously, I can't tell."

*

*

*

They spend that period lying on the back of Sasha's truck. It's Ymir who leads the talk, mostly because she's the only person there whose interesting stories sound more like wacky 90’s movie plots and less like average teenage antics. Jean wonders if she's bluffing, because some of her anecdotes are verging on illegal, but Marco is totally buying it and Jean doesn't feel like raining on his parade.

It's kind of cute actually, the way in which his mouth is opened in awe at everything Ymir says, how widely he opens his eyes, and how he nods and smiles encouragingly. Ymir is easy to dislike, rude and mostly keeps to herself. But Marco is so likeable that it's impossible to be unkind to him. His joy is contagious. Even Ymir sounds excited telling her own stories.

"But why would you get invited to Mr. Zacharius bachelor party?! Are we sure that that's legal?" Marco asks shocked. Jean is honestly not surprised by this point.

"We play in the same bowling team for some local tournaments. It's a long story," she says dismissively.

"That is honestly even more confusing," Marco tells her. Ymir laughs and shrugs.

"Dude's getting married with Nanaba, you know, the pretty Math teacher with short hair. I swear to God, teachers are so incestuous, hooking up with each other," she says, lighting up another of Jean's cigarettes. Jean doesn't even have the heart to complain.

"Hey, after the period's done we're going to Chipotle at lunch break, wanna come with?" Marco asks her, all smiles.

For some reason that doesn't sit well with Jean. And it's not like he dislikes Ymir, it's just, he was supposed to go with Marco only. Just the two of them. Jean isn't rude enough to actually ask her to stay out of it, but he does stare intensely at her, hoping she'll get the message. Ymir seems to sense the vibes that Jean is sending because after a while she shakes her head.

"Nah. Historia brought salmon for lunch and I have dibs on that shit. Eating it makes me feel fancy. But enjoy your cheap knock-off of Mexican food, you peasants," she says smirking at Jean. Jean shrugs, secretly thankful.

When the Math period that they chose not to assist to is done and over, lunch break comes. Ymir escapes with Jean's Marlboros, although he doesn't realize this until it's too late and she's cackling several meters away while he curses in French at her.

He is actually on a good mood when he puts on the seatbelt in Marco's car. The ride to Chipotle involves an impromptu karaoke session of awful 80’s hits because Marco is a huge dork and, secretly, Jean is too. They are both laughing at the fact that Jean can actually hit that one high note in ‘Take on Me’ when they enter Chipotle. Jean signals for Marco to go look for a sit while he orders their food. Marco is the kind of person to stick to the same plate every time he goes to a place, so Jean doesn’t even bother asking what he wants.

Jean stands in line behind a couple with two noisy kids and has to stop himself from staring in utter disgust as one of them starts to spit a long string of saliva and swallowing it back before it falls off. He’s actually so distracted by those awful brats (and shit, he’s starting to sound like Coach Levi) that he doesn’t even realize how attractive the employee in front of him is until it’s too late.

Jean is, beyond that cynical attitude he usually displays, kind of a shy guy. So his usual reaction to being confronted with beautiful girls is standing there mumbling while trying not to stare too hard.

His reaction doesn’t differ, apparently, when he is confronted by the model guy that somehow works at Chipotle. Because, seriously, Jean has never seen someone so attractive anywhere aside from magazines, and he wasn’t expecting to find a hot guy in Chipotle.

“Oh, hey, everything alright?” Hot Chipotle Guy asks mildly concerned, “You look kind of scared. Not all fast-food employees bite, I promise.”

Most people would be thankful that the person attending them is nice, but Jean just curses internally because kind, sweet girls are kind of his one weakness. This too seems to apply for guys, something Jean hadn’t really realized until now.

“I, uhm, food,” Jean attempts to convey, not very smoothly. Hot Chipotle Guy laughs and he seriously has one of the best five smiles he has ever seen in his lifetime. It’s awful.

“Alright, that’s some progress. What sort of food, though? We have meat wrapped in wheat and corn products or meat in a plate. That’s about it.”

“The sort that is wrapped,” Jean says while doing strange turning motions with his hands.

“We tend to call them ‘burritos’,” Hot Chipotle Guys says, still smiling, “how about you point at the ingredients and I do rest?” Jean agrees with a nod and quickly orders their burritos. He’s pretty sure he got some ingredients wrong on his for rushing everything up, but he makes Marco’s burrito just like he wants it, almost mechanically pointing at everything.

When Jean pays up he thanks the Hot Chipotle Guy shyly while trying not to look too hard at his cheekbones that look like those of a sculpted Roman statue. He wonders briefly how he would look if he had freckles on them. Hot Chipotle Guy gives him a kind smile and hands him the receipt with a wink.

Jean is blushing hard and slightly freaked out by the idea of finding Hot Chipotle Guy absurdly attractive, so he has a hard time finding the table where Marco is. But when he does find it, the giddy warmth that filled his body freezes entirely. Because sitting next to Marco is Peter, the asshole from that party.

“Oh hey, Shawn,” Peter greets him with a dazzling smile that in Jean’s opinion is just the sort of smile an asshole has.

"Hi, Pierre, “Jean grumbles, refusing to sit down in front of them. Marco shoots him a look but Peter flashes him an even more irritating smile, clearly unimpressed.

"It's Peter, actually. You're French, John?"

"It's Jean."

"Ah, it's my American accent. I apologize, John." Jean is about to counter that remark when Marco intercedes.

"It's not an easy name to pronounce," he says amicably.

"Judas," Jean whispers but gets thoroughly ignored by both boys.

"Jean's parents are both French. But Jean speaks French too," Marco points out. Peter nods, clearly uninterested.

"Anyway, Marco, are you coming on Saturday? Sam is bringing John and I don’t want to be third-wheeling,” Peter says, attempting to pout adorably and managing to look like an asshole still. Marco looks at Jean, slightly uncomfortable.

“I have to think about that,” Marco says feebly. Jean frowns.

“What’s on Saturday?” he asks, suspicious. Peter shrugs.

“We’re going to the cinema. Me, Marco and two friends. I’d invite you, but you would be the odd one out since…” Peter pauses then, turning to look at Marco with a smirk, “Well, I can’t really tell you. Whatever. It was great to see you again, Marco.” He then proceeds to kiss Marco on the cheek, and Jean is seriously pissed by that point. Marco on the other hand looks happy enough, blushing deeply.

“What the fuck,” Jean whispers. Peter laughs.

“Isn’t that how the French greet each other? I can give you one too, Shawn.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Jean snarls.

“Jean!” Marco says surprised, and Jean seriously hates the way in which he says it, like it’s a foreign word he wants to spit out of his mouth.

“It was nice to see you too, Juan,” Peter says and walks away.

“Okay, did you hear that? He wasn’t even trying! Fucking Juan,” Jean says, pointing at the spot where the asshole was mere seconds ago. Marco sighs.

“Why are being like that?” he says quietly. Jean doesn’t understand why Marco can’t see how much of an asshole Peter is. Jean is actually just going to rename him the Asshole, because seriously, what a tool.

“I’m trying to keep you safe from jerks. I know you want to think that everyone is nice and shit Marco but seriously…”

“No, Jean. Why are being like that? Why do you always act like you don’t care and whenever I try to get a chance with… anyone, really anyone, you have to push them away? Why are you like that if you don’t even care?” Marco says, sounding pissed off, but mostly just really sad. Jean doesn’t get what he’s talking about, but before he can ask, Marco shakes his head and sighs. He looks very tired all of a sudden.

“Forget it. I don’t want to fight. Let’s just eat,” he murmurs. Jean knows he shouldn’t let this go, because Marco is trying to communicate with him, and it seems like he’s been trying for a long time now. But he is a coward, in the end, so he accepts Marco’s olive branch and acts like nothing just happened. They eat in silence, and the drive back to school is also terrifyingly quiet.

In football practice, Mikasa surprises everyone with a short haircut, which really, it looks fantastic on her, but Jean can barely think about that. He can’t help but worry about Marco’s words, over-thinking them to the point he doesn’t even realize when Jaeger kicks the ball at him and misses and perfect opportunity to score a goal.

By the time they are driving back home, though, Marco is smiling again and they manage to keep a conversation without sounding awkward.

If his smile looks just a bit too fake and a bit too forced, Jean doesn’t really comment. He’s just thankful that Marco lets him act ignorant without a complaint.

*

*

*

When Jean goes to sleep, without a single ‘goodnight’ text from Marco, he can’t help but wonder whether really he himself should be the one named the Asshole.

It seems rather fitting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos guys!! I really appreciate it!!


	4. The most sacrosanct of silences (Wednesday)

 

“Why do you come here?  
And why do you hang around?  
I’m so sorry  
I’m so sorry  
Why do you come here  
When you know it makes things hard for me?  
When you know, oh  
Why do you come?”

-Suedehead by Morrissey

 

Jean is not a drunkard, really. But it's 4 am and he can't sleep. Warm milk isn't cutting it. His mind keeps rumbling and the word 'maybe' is embedded into his eyelids.

Maybe Marco is...

Maybe Jean isn't...

And maybe what Jean feels for Marco is...

Maybe, just maybe. It frightens Jean to think of such things, so he quietly makes his way downstairs to steal vodka from his parents’ 'hidden' cabinet. It's not like he's planning on downing the bottle or anything remotely stupid as that. He's pretty sure that half a glass of that will put him in a mellow state. Jean has no problem sleeping when he's drunk. He just needs to put his head on a pillow and he's out.

So yeah, as much he partially thinks this is a terrible idea, there is some logic behind it all.

Thing is, Jean isn't very good at assessing his own limits, so by 6 am he's pretty much wasted while chain-smoking on the ledge of his window. He should be up in an hour, and there is no way he'll be completely sober by the time Marco comes to get him, so he texts him, asking him not to come and fetch him. Then he stumbles towards the bathroom and he takes a cold shower, which isn't actually good enough to wake him up, but it does help to take off the smell of booze and smoke.

Walking to school takes 30 minutes, but Jean thinks that perhaps it'll help him to sober up and anyway, Jean isn't really in his best state of mind so any idea sounds like a good idea.

Which is why Jean is walking at an unsteady pace through the school parking lot one hour before classes start. The school is unfortunately closed, though, so Jean sits down on the lawn, touching the wet grass with the palm of his hands. Something vibrates in his pocket and Jean withdraws his cellphone.

 

**Marco Polo** :

Is everything alright?

 

Jean stares at the phone for a while. Texting when drunk is tricky, and usually, Jean gets Marco to send texts to his mum for him when he's in this state. It takes him about three minutes to tell Marco that he chose to walk to school. A few seconds later Marco texts him again.

 

**Marco Polo** :

You're already in school?! That's a tad early don't you think?

 

Jean grunts and texts Marco some lame excuse about wanting extra credit in History and offering to help Bossard organizing his archives. It's stupid and Marco will see right through it, but whenever Jean pretends he's telling the truth, Marco always pretends to believe him.

A minute later, there's another text.

 

**Marco Polo** :

Okay. See you in forty

 

Jean doesn't bother answering that text back. He seriously regrets getting drunk. What was he even trying to achieve? Aside for the complete deletion of Sunday's memories and the questioning that they've manage to bring forward. Jean must be sobering up a bit, because his thoughts are clearly much more coherent.

After twenty minutes of lying on the grass, the sprinklers turn on and start soaking Jean's clothes. It admittedly wakes Jean up, but not in a very pleasant way.

Sighing, he stands up and walks towards the school. The doors are mercifully opened, and two younger kids walk inside in front of Jean. He still isn't 100% sober, but at least he has recovered, mostly, his physical functions.

He hides inside the boy's bathroom, drinking water from the tap, until Marco texts him saying he's inside Mr. Zacharius' class. He arrived 10 minutes earlier and Jean knows he did that just to check on him. He's glad, but slightly pissed off by the fact that Marco feels the need to constantly baby him.

He walks into his English Literature class to find it empty, except for Marco who is sitting on the second row of desks. He's idly playing with his pen, twirling it between his fingers. He looks up after Jean knocks on the door.

"Oh. Hey," Marco says, instantly concerned, "you look a tad tired." Jean shrugs nonchalantly.

"Yeah, I didn't really sleep much." Marco nods, but he still looks worried. Jean sits down next to Marco and puts an arm around his shoulders.

"Don't worry, I'm fine," he says. He leans in a little bit, pressing his forehead against Marco's temple. Marco freezes in response.

Jean is, unfortunately, a touchy-feely sort of drunk. Marco never seemed to be particularly bothered by this, but then again, that was before the kiss.

Before Jean started wondering if Marco liked guys.

"You look a bit... Not sober," Marco says. Jean is too busy nuzzling against Marco's neck to pay attention to his words. Marco smells nice, unlike most guys. He smells like strong tea and soap, and like orange peels and cloves, the clothing softener that Mrs. Bodt always uses. It just smells so incredibly Marco, it makes Jean yearn for him in ways that he shouldn't.

_Why is he trying so hard to avoid this?_

"I'm _not_ sober," Jean whispers into the crook of Marco's neck. He turns to face Jean, surprised.

Jean looks at his face, at his freckles and his brown eyes and a sudden sense of understanding courses inside him. He kisses Marco's lips, gently, and he remembers suddenly that he was the one who kissed Marco that particular Sunday at 4 am. He was the one who started it all.

Jean doesn't know if that makes him braver or even more of a coward.

Marco is clearly taken aback by the kiss, but he doesn't push Jean away. And after a couple of seconds, he kisses back. They are kissing softly now, just lips touching lips, nothing like the wildness of the last kiss they shared. Jean doesn't really know how, but he ends up with his hands holding Marco by the waist, while Marco holds Jean's face gently but firmly, as if making sure he won't disappear.

The noise of the creaking door interrupts them. Jean quickly pushes Marco away from him, and turns to find Ymir at the door. Ymir never shows up early, and Jean is pretty sure that fate is trying to mess with him or something.

Ymir is silent as she looks at them, scrutinizing them with her eyes. She turns and acts nonchalantly then, but Ymir is far too clever for Jean to believe that she doesn't know what's been going on.

"Hey, Ymir," Marco says, unable to completely hide the tremors in his voice. Ymir half-smiles at him.

"You look like shit, Kirschstein," Ymir says, as a way of greeting.

"You don't," Marco whispers solemnly. Jean just shakes his head.

"I'm really drunk, right now," Jean says. He isn't, really. But if he says that enough times, maybe even he can start to believe it.

"Right," Marco says, sounding almost disappointed. He looks like he's about to say something more, but students begin to pour in and the moment is lost.

Jean isn't even fully sober and he's already regretting this kiss.

_Then why did you kiss him again?_

Jean knows the answer to this question, but that doesn't mean that he accepts it.

"You look like crap, bro," Connie says while taking a seat behind Marco and Jean, "rough night?"

"Didn't sleep," Jean answers tiredly. Connie shakes his head.

"Man, you should sleep. Your brain is all messed up right now. You should have just stayed at home, bro," Connie tells him while Sasha nods effusively.

"You should have stayed at home," Marco repeats quietly. He isn't even bothering with faking a smile. He looks wilted out, like a dead flower.

Jean knows that he's an asshole, but he wants to pretend like that kissed didn't happen either.

And the worst thing is Marco is probably going to let him.

*

*

*

Mike Zacharius, English teacher and possible-giant, is well-known in Trost private school due to his ridiculous scent-seeking skills. He can guess what's for lunch at the cafeteria before the cooks even start cooking. He knows what perfume each teacher uses (Bossard is harder to guess, considering he always uses the free samples he finds in magazines).

The guy only needs five minutes inside the class to figure out one of his students is buzzed.

He sniffs around and touches Jean on the shoulder.

"You smell like a frat boy after finals," he says, interrupting Mikasa's reading of 'The Great Gatsby'.

The whole class is looking at Jean and Mr. Zacharius, and Jean knows that he's in trouble.

"Mr. Smith's office?" he asks. Mike sighs.

"I'll take you there. Sasha, you're in charge of the class until I come back," he says.

"Sweet!" Sasha shouts, standing up and running towards the light switch, "I'm gonna dim the lights, ha, ha."

Mr. Zacharius looks like he vaguely regrets his choice for a moment. Jean stands up and grabs his backpack, walking behind Mr. Zacharius.

He turns to look at Marco before leaving the class. But Marco looks angry, actually angry at Jean. The only time Jean had seen him like that was when some bullies pushed Jean down a hill. And he was only angry because he couldn’t be there to stop them (even if Marco was a tiny boy who couldn’t even step on a bug).

Marco has never been angry at Jean, no matter how many reasons Jean has given him to be so.

It kind of breaks Jean's heart.

*

*

*

"Are you sure he didn't just get drunk two days ago? You've made that mistake before," Mr. Smith says calmly. Jean is sitting down in front of him, attempting to look as sober as possible which is probably making him look even less so. Mr. Zacharius shakes his head.

"Erwin, he smells like he got drunk just before coming to school. And smoked like a maniac, if I might add. Trust me, the kid is wasted." Mr. Smith intertwines his fingers and places his chin on top of his hands. Jean relates that same posture with his dad and can't help but be blown away by how dad-like Mr. Smith really is.

But like a hot dad.

Jean's face heats up slightly at that thought.

"Are you drunk, Jean?" Mr. Smith asks seriously.

Jean could easily lie to him. He could. But he has never liked lying. Even if this past week that's all he's done.

"A little bit," he whispers. Mr. Smith nods.

"Thank you, Mike. I'll take this from here," he says. Mr. Zacharius shrugs and places a gentle hand on top of Jean's shoulder.

"Alright then," he says and he squeezes Jean's shoulder before turning and leaving. Jean is left alone with Mr. Smith, and he feels slightly unnerved.

"How much did you drink, and when did you drink?" Mr. Smith asks as soon and Zacharius leaves the room.

"I don't know how much. But I got really... Wasted. That was about three hours ago, I think," Jean says, "I'm sober right now."

"That's not what you said before," Mr. Smith says. Jean shrugs.

"I... Maybe I'm a bit drunk. Are you going to call my parents?" Mr. Smith shrugs at that.

"How about this, if you tell me why you got drunk and you promise me this will never happen again, then I might not call your parents," Mr. Smith says. Jean sighs.

"I promise it'll never happen again. But I... I don't want to talk about what happened. I just couldn't sleep, so I thought that if I drunk..."

"You have to understand, Jean," Mr. Smith interrupts, "that drinking on a weekday night alone because you can't fall asleep is worrisome. Alcoholism is..."

"I'm not an alcoholic, Mr. Smith," Jean says, vaguely amused by the suggestion.

"I need you to take this more seriously, Jean," Mr. Smith says less calmly.

"Yeah. Sorry. I know it was a stupid thing to do."

"Is something bothering you? Is that why you couldn't sleep? Something bad happened this week?" Jean is shocked by Mr. Smith's precision.

"Something like that. It's... It's stupid but it kind of made things awkward between me and someone I care about. It's making me worry more than it should."

"If it worries you then it isn't stupid, Jean. Don't belittle your issues. If they matter to you, then they matter to me," Mr. Smith says. It sounds like the cheesy speech any school principal would give, in a way. But it seems honest coming from him.

"I haven't talked to anyone about it. So I'd rather not talk about it with you. Please, just, don't call my parents," Jean asks quietly. Mr. Smith stares at Jean for a moment, as if trying to read his mind. But he sighs, finally, admitting defeat.

"If this happens again, I will not hesitate to call your parents. Or expel you," he tells Jean.

"Thank you," Jean says, relaxing a bit.

"You're not off the hook. I’m giving you detention, every day for two weeks, starting next Monday, understood?”

Jean sighs but nods. That’s a really shitty punishment, but it could be worse, much worse really. He could get suspended. Really, Erwin is being kind of a saint right now.

“Furthermore,” Mr. Smith continues, “I can't have you in this state at school, so I'm going to ask you to go home. Can anyone take you?" Jean briefly thinks about this for a moment, but shakes his head.

"Then I'll take you," Mr. Smith says, standing up. Jean looks at him questioningly.

"You will?"

"Yes, just give me your address. I'll borrow Mr. Bossard's car," he says, grabbing a black coat on his way out. Jean hurries behind him. They walk silently across the halls and towards the parking lot.

Bossard is there, having a cigarette break while chatting excitedly with Coach Levi. Levi looks extremely annoyed at all the talk.

"Levi, seriously?" Mr. Smith says, walking towards them. Levi looks at him and sighs, throwing the cigarette he's smoking to the ground and crushing it with the heel of his black snickers.

"It was only one, Erwin. Don't get bitchy," he says.

"What's going on, Erwin?" Bossard greets Mr. Smith.

"I need your car keys. I'm driving Jean Kirschstein home."

"And why the fuck are you doing that?" Levi asks him defiantly. Erwin frowns at his use of language.

"He's feeling under the weather and no one can come and pick him up."

"Don't you think it's weird? A principal driving a student home?" Levi counters. Erwin shrugs.

"I have no problem helping one of my students when he needs my help," he says. Levi half-smiles at this, which surprises Jean. Levi isn't the sort of guy who smiles. Ever.

"Always had a thing for strays, huh? You're a big man, Smith. Bigger than I am."

"Well, you are kind of short, Levi," Erwin jokes. The Coach rolls his eyes at this.

"Terrible. Your dad jokes are a public menace, Smith," he says, "Can I borrow a smoke from Kirschstein? I don't think I can listen to Bossard for much longer."

"Hey, my study on the foreign policies of Uruguay from 1950 to 1960 is fascinating. Petra agreed," Bossard argues.

"And I don't smoke," Jean adds. Levi snorts at this.

"Please, Kirschstein, your lungs are the weakest one in the team. You can't run for more than three kilometers without needing an oxygen machine," Levi scoffs.

"You're not stealing cigarettes from our students, Levi," Erwin warns him. Levi makes a strange chocking sound that Jean can only guess is laughter.

"You're boring, old man," he says.

"Here's the car keys, Erwin," Bossard says. Erwin takes them and flashes a smile at Levi.

"Thank you, Auruo," he says and motions for Jean to walk towards a battered Volkswagen Golf, handing him the keys. Jean sits on the passenger seat and stares as Mr. Smith chats with a smirking Coach Levi.

Jean heard a rumor once, about them. About how Coach Levi and Mr. Smith lived together. About how they've been together for a while now.

He kind of wants to ask Mr. Smith if that's true or not, but he doesn't want to think too hard on that.

Thing is, Jean might be gayer than he thinks. Like, _way_ gayer.

Mr. Smith stops flirting with Coach Levi after a while and walks towards the car. He starts the engine and swiftly drives out of the parking lot.

"It's on the street after the Wendy's, right?" Jean nods stiffly. Erwin shrugs and fiddles with the radio, finally settling on a station playing The Smiths. Jean expected Erwin to listen to Genesis or The Beatles (not that there's anything wrong with those bands, but they are undeniably dad-like), so he nods appreciatively at Erwin's music taste.

"You like The Smiths?" Mr. Smith asks. Jean nods.

"Yeah, they're kind of depressing, but I dig that."

"I got into them because of the name," Erwin says, and it takes a moment for Jean to understand he's making a dad-joke about his last name and the band's name. He laughs lightly and Erwin looks pleased.

"I saw them in concert, actually," he tells Jean, "I kind of had a crush on Morrissey." Jean tenses at that comment. The fact that Mr. Smith can admit that so freely kind of freaks him out.

"Does Coach Levi like them?" Jean asks innocently. Erwin turns to look at him, assessing him with his eyes again. Whenever he does that he seems less like a dad and more like an army commander or something.

"Yeah, he loves them. He likes depressing, angsty music too, even if he hates to admit it. I remember blasting 'There is a light,' while riding in my old Impala at 4 am. Levi hanging from the passenger window while crushing mailboxes with a baseball bat..."

Erwin takes a pause then.

"Actually, forget about that last bit, please," he says. Jean laughs.

"Holy shit, Mr. Smith, I would have never guessed you used to be punk-rock," he says, "Oh, sorry about the cuss word." Erwin sighs, sounding defeated.

"It's fine. Living with Levi almost makes you immune to them, anyway. Yes, I guess I was rather punk-rock back in my days."

"How did you and Levi meet?" Jean blurts out. Erwin tenses up at the question, but then quickly shrugs.

"Oh, in a bar, you know. We became friends, I got him a job at school. It's not really an interesting story," he says. Jean nods.

"I know this is kind of personal,” Jean starts but he stops there because there’s no way he’s asking this to his goddamn school principal.

But then again, Erwin is staring at him like he already knows where this is going, or at the very least, like understands something Jean doesn’t. So Jean sighs deeply before continuing.

“Like... how did you know?" He asks quietly.

"How did I know what?"

"That you were in love with Levi?" And that isn’t really what Jean wanted to ask but it sounds better than asking someone how they knew they were into dudes.

Erwin is quiet for a while. He changes the radio station and sighs.

"Is that what's bothering you? You're in love with someone?" Jean cringes at that. Talking about his romantic issues with a teacher feels pretty strange. He kind of feels like that time when his mum attempt to teach him about ‘the birds and the bees’ when he had already known about sex for a few months. It is a rather surreal experience.

"I think I might like my best friend more than is normal," Jean says cautiously. Mr. Smith clears his throat and remains quiet for a moment.

"Marco Bodt is a great kid," he says after a while. Jean sort of has heart attack when he hears him say that.

"I never said..."

"You didn't have to. I know the mechanics behind the football team and I know how you and Marco are inseparable, according to Levi," Erwin says.

"I'm not sure though," Jean says, slightly panicky. He wonders if he is so easy to read that even someone who doesn't know him personally like Mr. Smith can tell that he's in love with Marco, maybe.

He wonders if Marco knows.

Mr. Smith takes a turn to the left and sighs, sounding almost as awkward as Jean feels.

"Jean, take it from me. It's okay to fall in love with a boy. It's not weird to like your best friend as more than just a friend. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with you," he says earnestly. Jean nods halfheartedly. His heart is still racing at the fact that someone is saying it out loud.

Jean likes boys. Jean is (possibly) in love with his best friend. Jean is absolutely and irrevocably not straight. At all.

"I'll drop you off here," Erwin says. Jean realizes that he's being dropped off a block away from his house.

"I'd recommend that you go to Wendy's until classes are over. So that your parents don't find out about this."

"Mr. Smith, you're pretty cool for a school principal," Jean tells him. Erwin laughs, dispelling the slight tension in the atmosphere.

"Listen, Jean, if you ever need someone to talk about this... Well, trust me when I say I know what you're going through. And I'll always have time to listen to you," he says softly. Jean just continues to nod dumbly as he gets off the car and he watches as the car speeds away.

Mr. Smith is nice but talking to him feels too much like talking to a slightly liberal parent. It’s still awkward as hell.

Jean stays for the following hours inside the Wendy's near his house. He orders a coffee first and drinks it slowly while flipping through a discarded magazine. He orders a vanilla milkshake while reading a Buzzfeed article on his phone. By midday, he orders a hamburger with no pickles and watches some kids playing inside a ball pit. He eats an extra order of onion rings and then one of fries with ketchup while writing a note on his phone of the Pros and Cons of telling Marco about his feelings, which he is constantly editing.

When he thinks he's safe to go home, he walks slowly towards it. Jean is, by now, sober and absolutely sure of one thing: he's totally in love with Marco and he doesn't want to be.

Sure, it's most likely that Marco is gay. After all, Peter the Asshole was clearly flirting with him and the way in which he returned Jean's kisses wasn't exactly straight. But Jean doesn't want to be gay. He has nothing against gay people but he just doesn't want to come out to his parents and his friends. It sounds terrible and exhausting. Plus, even if he does like boys, he's totally into girls as well. He can be in a relationship with a girl and be happy, without giving the idea of dating a guy a second thought (as terribly depressing as it sounds).

He loves Marco, though. He really does love him. And if Marco isn't just kissing him because he finds Jean attractive, but because he actually likes him, then Jean has to take a chance. He owes that much to Marco and to himself.

He decides that he'll text Marco. That tomorrow they need to talk. And he'll confess to him his muddled feelings, and see what happens from there. Jean goes to take a shower to remove the smell of cigarettes before his mum realizes that he's back from school.

When he grabs his phone to text Marco, he sees that Marco has already texted him one single message.

 

**Marco Polo** :

Tomorrow we need to talk. I'm serious. I don't think I'll be able to forgive you if run away again.

 

Jean sighs and texts Marco back.

 

**Jean** :

Don’t worry. I'm not running away this time.

 

 


	5. The remaining rupture and the riot that resulted (Thursday)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the following two are going to be waaaaaaay longer than the rest, just a heads up  
> thanks for all the kudos and comments!!

**“** Children wake up

Hold your mistake up

Before they turn the summer into dust

If the children don't grow up

Our bodies get bigger

But our hearts get torn up

We're just a million little gods

Causin' rain storms

Turnin' every good thing to rust”

-Wake Up by Arcade Fire

 

It turns out it was a good thing that Jean barely slept. He was so undeniably tired that the nervousness of talking with Marco the next day wasn't enough to keep him awake.

He sleeps the whole afternoon and wakes up extremely hungry on Thursday at 6 am. He showers and changes, but chooses to skip breakfast. He texts Marco asking him to pick him up earlier, so they can talk about the issue as soon as possible. He suggests going for coffee before.

Marco is twenty minutes earlier than he usually is. Jean gets into the car with his heart beating so hard that he's afraid that Marco will hear it.

"Hey," he says. Marco turns to look at him, grimacing.

"Hey. Are you feeling better?"

"I'm fine. I just seriously need to talk to you, man. Let's go to Starbucks," Jean says nonchalantly. Marco frowns.

"Jean, what happened yesterday..."

"I know. The kiss. We'll talk about that too," Jean interrupts him. But Marco shakes his head.

"No, Jean. You were drunk yesterday. Like, you went to school drunk. That's worrisome," he says concerned. Jean is starting to feel like this conversation is not going to go the way he planned it.

"It was stupid, I know that Marco. Can't we talk about this later?" Marco huffs and looks away, but starts the car nonetheless. Jean makes a grab for the iPod but Marco grabs it first and picks up a song himself. He chooses "The Lion's Roar," by First Aid Kit, surprising Jean.

"Isn't this song kind of depressing for a ride in the car?" Marco shrugs.

"I'm not really in the mood for anything happy," he says. They ride in silence to the Starbucks near school. Jean offers to buy coffee for them both, and Marco cautiously accepts. They sit outside so that they are not disturbed. The weather is pleasant enough, cold enough to need a sweater but warm enough to be without a jacket.

Jean takes a sip of his coffee and waits for Marco to say something. The silence stretches and Jean is about to open his mouth when Marco closes his eyes and sighs.

"I went out with Peter yesterday," he says. Jean takes a moment to analyze what Marco just said. And his mood instantly deflates.

"When you say you went out with him, what you mean to say is..."

"It was a date. We... It was a date. I'm sure you figured this out by now, but in case you haven't, I'm gay," Marco says quietly. Jean is dumbfounded for a moment. He isn't sure on how to react. When he imagined how this conversation would go, he never pictured it like this.

"I mean, I wasn't sure about it. I wanted you to tell me yourself," Jean tells him. Marco shrugs, looking the other way.

"Well now you know, I guess. Are you okay with that?"

"Okay with what?" Jean asks.

"With me being gay."

Jean _really_ didn't expect this to go this way. He thought he'd just tell Marco about how he felt and they would both agree (or not) that they should get together.

He didn't really picture what came after that or what 'getting together' really entailed and perhaps that's why his plan is falling apart.

"Marco, of course I'm okay with that! That's what I wanted to tell you, because..."

"I need to ask you for a favor then," Marco intercedes. Jean raises an eyebrow expectantly at that.

"I really like Peter. And... I think I would like to be with him. So you really need to stop... You can't keep kissing me, Jean," he says, "Not only because of Peter but because I don't feel comfortable. I don't take it as lightly as you do, just something silly to do when you’re drunk. Kissing a guy actually means something to me, you know?"

Jean doesn't really know what to say. He has a thousand feeling racing through him and none of them are positive or comfortable.

"Did you kiss him? Did you kiss Peter?" He asks, even when he really doesn't want to know.

"Yeah... I mean, we kissed, yeah," Marco says awkwardly.

"Fucking asshole," Jean murmurs. He definitely never meant for that to happen. He knows he has no right to be angry about this, that he never showed Marco how he felt and he can't blame him for wanting to be with someone else. But it hurts; the idea of Marco kissing someone else makes Jean feel constrained and broken. He knows he shouldn't be pissed off but he can't help it.

"Could you not call him that? I don't expect you to like the way I am but you could at least be understanding," Marco tells him softly. Jean shakes his head to clear it up, but he feels like something dense and heavy is churning inside of him.

"I have no problem with you being... This isn't about that, Marco!" He says, raising his voice and startling a young couple sitting next to them. Marco sighs and shakes his head, seemingly tired.

"Then what is it about Jean?"

He doesn't know how to answer that. There is no use in confessing now that he knows how Marco feels. He dislikes Peter, but his hatred is mostly based on jealousy and a gut feeling that Peter isn't right for Marco. That's not enough to deprive his best friend of something that could possibly make him happy.

Feeling exhausted, Jean closes his eyes, clenching his hand into useless fists of frustration.

"I just want you to be happy, Marco," Jean says. He feels like he's too young to be this heartbroken, but there is no other way around it. Jean feels like someone has smashed his heart repeatedly against a wall. The pain of it all can't be minimized by insisting that his issues are petty and silly.

It hurts, no matter how stupid other's might think it is. Being in love with someone who only likes you back really does hurt.

"... Thank you," Marco says, sounding both relieved and disappointed. Jean just nods, not knowing what else to do.

"I just... I wanted to know why..." Marco mumbles, but quickly stops himself. Jean waits for him to continue, but there is only silence.

"We should get going," he whispers. Marco nods and stands up abruptly. They walk towards the car, Jean feeling like he has been drowned. Marco starts the car and drives towards school without any music. Jean doesn't even realize this, but he does feel oddly emptier.

When Marco parks the car, he grabs Jean gently by the shoulder before he can get off.

"Jean, did you... Was there something you wanted to tell me?" He asks him softly.

Jean thinks of all the things he could say then, but ultimately shakes his head.

"No. There's nothing left to say," he says, exiting the car. He makes his way to class without bothering to see if Marco is following behind or not. Only when he gets to class does he realize that he isn't.

*

*

*

Tension is palpable in every class that Jean shares with Marco. They sit together, as usual, but they aren't really together. They don't exchange a single word but they hardly pay attention to their classes either. It’s like they are pretending everything is alright, when both of them know it isn’t. Jean has always felt at ease when he was with Marco, but this doesn’t seem to be the case anymore.

Jean just really hates all of it. A part of him wants to tell Marco the truth, show him how he feels for him, but that would be stupid. Marco has made it abundantly clear that he wants someone else, and Jean isn’t going to ruin their friendship just because he has a crush on him. Just because he’s actually in love with him.

It may seem cowardly, but as soon as lunch break comes, Jean tells Marco that he has some errands to run and goes hide in the boys’ bathroom. All he wants is to prevent being alone with Marco, because things are bound to get awkward when both of them spend all lunch break not speaking and avoiding each other’s eyes.

Jean was just planning on eating a sad ham and cheese sandwich while sitting sadly on a sad toilet, but he realizes that someone is already there and feels slightly disturbed by the idea of eating in the bathroom when someone is present.

“Are you eating here, Kirschstein?” says the person sitting in the stall next to him. Jean recognizes that insufferable tone as the one present in Eren Jaeger’s voice.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Jaeger?”

“I’m hiding from Mikasa,” he answers honestly. Jean sighs.

“Why?”

“I don’t know… can I have a piece of whatever you’re having?”

“No. Why are you hiding?” Jean hears Jaeger exhale exasperatedly.

“I told you I don’t know. I feel weird when I’m next to her…”

“Oh, that happens to some boys when they reach a certain age. You need me to explain the birds and the bees to you, Jaeger?”

“Shut the fuck up, Kirschstein.”

They both stop talking when someone else enters the bathroom. Whoever it is pisses quickly and leaves without cleaning his hands.

“Why are _you_ hiding?” Jaeger asks.

“I’m not hiding,” Jean answers simply. There is something very weird about having a conversation with someone who you know is there with you but you can’t see. It is especially weirder when you’re sitting on a toilet and so is the person in the stall next to yours.

“Then why aren’t you eating outside, like, you know, a normal human being?” Jean quietly considers this question. Maybe saying that he’s hiding would be the more normal response, but he doesn’t want Jaeger to continue his inquiry. Not that the protozoan could actually catch on his feeling for Marco (the idiot can’t even catch on _his_ own feeling for Mikasa) but it’s still a touchy subject and thinking about it makes Jean feel like shit.

“That’s none of your business,” Jean answers lamely. Jaeger laughs.

“Seriously though, can I get a piece of your food? I’m hungry.”

“Please stop talking to me,” Jean tells him.

Somehow that works, because Jaeger doesn’t bother him for the rest of their stay in the boys’ bathroom.

When the school bell rings, both Jaeger and Jean exit their stalls.

“We should probably not talk about this to anyone,” Jaeger says, opening the bathroom door and holding it for Jean in a strange moment of solidarity.

“Agreed.”

*

*

*

Much like anything positive in Jean’s life, his strange moment of kinship with Jaeger ends pretty quickly. It’s right after school is done, when the boys in the football team charge towards the locker rooms to get into their football uniforms. Jean is minding his own business, changing alongside Marco when he makes the mistake of lingering too much on the sight of him. And it’s not like Jean hasn’t seen Marco half-naked a thousand times (and yes, he has always appreciated how aesthetically pleasing his body was) but that was before the idea of having a crush on Marco popped up. Before the idea of being sexually attracted to guys was even a possibility. Now he can’t help but wonder how kissing Marco’s flat stomach would feel like and then remembering how maybe Peter already got to do that already, making him feel angry, ashamed and aroused all at once. It’s frankly disturbing.

He attempts to inconspicuously move farther away from Marco, go change somewhere else where he isn’t distracted, but as he turns someone crushes against him. He grabs them by the shoulders and looks down to find a glaring Mikasa Ackerman in his arms.

A part of him is definitely terrified since Mikasa’s glare is one of the most fear-provoking things he’s ever witnessed. On the other hand, he is holding one of the most attractive girls he’s ever seen in his arms. Shirtless.

“You okay?” Jean asks her, attempting not to blush. What is she even doing in the boys’ locker room to start with?

Mikasa half-smiles, but she still seems rather upset.

“Yeah, thanks,” she says, softly pushing Jean away. She quickly walks out of the changing room, without another word.

Jean turns to the rest of the guys for some sort of explanation, but only finds a very angry Eren Jaeger with a glare almost equally as terrifying as Mikasa’s. He turns and closes a locker hard, and Jean can’t help but feel slightly concerned for his well-being. Then he turns to find Marco also staring at him.

Marco, though, is looking at him with a strange mixture of sadness and concern. When he realizes he is looking at him, he quickly changes his expression to a smile.

Jean is just extremely confused by it all, as usual.

*

*

*

Jaeger ends up proving Jean’s theory: he is a goddamn fuck-head with absolutely no restrains. Most of the football match goes fairly well. Jaeger is actually collaborating with Jean and they actually make a pretty great team, as much as Jean hates to admit it. At some point, though, it all goes to hell.

Mikasa scores a goal and Jean turns to congratulate her. The next thing he knows, he’s falling face first to the ground. Pain shoots from his nose to the rest of his face and tears well up in his eyes. He attempts to dry them up before anyone notices, but when he touches his face he finds it smeared with blood. He sits down and finds Jaeger staring dumbly at him.

Jean realizes the motherfucker actually tackled him.

"Calm down, Jaeger. It's just a fucking game," he grumbles, attempting to stop the blood freely flowing from his nose.

Eren continues to look at Jean blankly, and frankly managing to piss Jean even more.

"At least say you're sorry you piece of..."

"Language, Kirschstein," Coach Levi interrupts. Jean turns to find the Coach walking towards them, although his eyes are specifically trained on Jaeger, like he’s the one who got hurt.

Jean rolls his eyes at that. Jaeger is always sucking up to the Coach, so of course he’s getting preferential treatment. Jean finds the whole deal rather infuriating.

It doesn’t help that he’s already had a lot of frustrating shit thrown at him throughout the day.

"Jaeger, you alright?" The Coach asks. Jean can hardly believe it.

"I'd say he is, considering I'm the one who is fucking bleeding," he says bluntly. The Coach finally turns to look at him, apathetic features showing a hint of anger.

"Listen Kirschstein, if you don't fix that nasty-ass language of yours a suspension might be coming your way," Coach Levi threatens.

That comments makes Jean’s blood boil.

"Of course, yeah, so Jaeger gets to insult you all he wants and you tell him to go sit in the corner but then I try to complain about your fucking obvious favoritism and I get suspended. He kicked me on purpose, I didn't even have the ball he just kicked me because he is some uneducated Goddamn savage who his parents were never around to raise properly and teach him some fucking manners."

"Kirschstein!" Levi shouts and this time Jean does shut up, mostly because he realizes what he just said, and shit, that was kind of harsh.

He turns to look at Eren, who is just staring off into the distance looking more tired than angry.

The Coach looks at them both, as if assessing the situation to pass judgment. He’s about to say something when Mr. Smith puts a hand on his shoulder.

Levi’s expression completely crumbles back to the bored look he usually wears. He exhales and takes a step back, giving Erwin room to speak.

Jean wonders how long you have to be with a person to be so in synch with them.

"Eren and Jean," Mr. Smith says slowly and methodically, "you too are on par when it comes to athletic skills. You have similar builds and play in complementary positions. If you actually gave this whole 'team work' thing a change, you two would be amazing. I don't understand why _you_ can't see that."

Mr. Smith is looking pointedly at him, and Jean feels like he has somehow disappointed Erwin in some unforgivable way. He hates that feeling.

"I think you two should get out of the field and perhaps talk about what exactly is going on with this little rivalry, alright?" Mr. Smith says.

Jaeger nods and Jean stands up as well, avoiding meeting Mr. Smith’s eyes.

As he walks away, Jean turns for a moment to search for Marco. Marco is looking back at him, considerably concerned.

Jean’s heart constricts painfully when he looks at that face. Whenever Marco looks at him like that, Jean can’t help but wonder if perhaps, just maybe, he cares more about him than he let’s on.

Unfortunately, it is a horribly unhopeful thing to think, so Jean walks away, attempting to ignore it.

*

*

*

"This is stupid," Jean says as he sits down next to a flowerbed. The flowers are kind of small, they still haven’t bloomed yet, but they look strangely hopeful.

Jean feels the urge to crush them.

"I agree with you, on that at least," Eren says, and looks at the flowerbed, oddly silent.

Jean wants to ignore Jaeger for as long as they have to be there. He really does. But the idiot looks like he’s in a music video, staring out the window while remembering a past love or some bullshit like that. It pisses Jean off, because Eren has it so easy. He’s in love with his best friend. His best friend is in love with him. His best friend is a girl. Really, it’s almost like a Hollywood movie (exactly like a stupid rom-com actually). But the guy is moping because he thinks that, what? That Mikasa is in love with Jean or something like that? Jean likes Mikasa, but he knew from the start that he didn’t have a chance with the way in which she looked at Jaeger.

The idiots should be making out under the bleachers, not fighting or getting jealous of other people. That’s what Jean would be doing if Marco actually loved him in the same way that Jean loves Marco.

"She's in love with you, you know?" Jean says finally.

Jaeger turns to look at him, seemingly confused.

"What?" Jaeger says, not very eloquently. Jean is seriously astounded by his stupidity.

"Mikasa Ackerman is in love with you. You dumbass," he says, stating the most obvious fact in the world.

"No she isn't," Eren says, actually sounded offended at the very idea of Mikasa Ackerman being in love with him. Honestly, Jean is offended by the idea too, but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t true.

"Are you fucking blind? She's crazy for you. Everyone knows it. It's always been you three, Eren, Mikasa and Armin all throughout primary but lately it's all been Mikasa and Eren who play in complementary positions in the football field and have every class together and walk back home together because Armin had to stay to do homework or for extra credit. Eren and Mikasa who communicate by looking at each other, who go jogging together every Sunday morning and are always fiercely protective of each other. Eren and Mikasa who sometimes people think are siblings even though they look nothing alike, just because they are so close. Eren and Mikasa this and Eren and Mikasa that. You seriously can't see it?"

Jean finishes delivering his monologue, and for a moment realizes that he was also sort of describing Marco and him. Marco, who always drives him everywhere, blasting music on the stereo while they sing along to it loudly. Marco, who attempted to defend Jean from some bullies in primary although he was only 40kg of skinny limbs and freckles. Marco, who took Jean to see ‘ _Les Choriste_ ’ in French and with no subtitles to a tiny, indie cinema, even though he didn’t understand any of the dialogues. Marco, who smiled and handed Jean a napkin when he cried during half of the movie.

The memories make Jean yearn for Marco terribly.

Jaeger is silent next to him, probably trying to process what he just said. Jean sighs.

"I don't think you can be so thick that you haven't figured this out yet but in case you haven't, you're in love with her too," he says.

Jaeger instantly reacts to that comment.

"What? I mean, what the fuck would _you_ know. I mean, how can you say that?! That's disgust... That is not okay. That is wrong. I mean she's my best friend how can you... how could anyone even..? Maybe you're in love with her, huh? Maybe you're saying that just to throw me off isn't that right? Well, Kirschstein, reverse psychology doesn't work on me so suck it," Eren says, clearly panicking.

"Amazing," Jean whispers while shaking his head. Jaeger groans.

"Fuck off, I mean, why do you even care if I, you know, with Mikasa?" Jean shrugs.

"I don't. I mean, she's very pretty and like, seriously so cool. I would love to go out with her or make out with her or even..."

"I warn you to think twice about your choice of words, Kirschstein," Eren says flatly. Jean laughs at that. How he went from denying it all too quickly acting like a jealous boyfriend. He finds that kind of hilarious.

"Look, I do like her, but I'm not in love with… _Her_ ,” Jean pauses, almost accidentally confessing to his crush on Marco, “I, you know, I'm... I mean whatever.”

Jaeger doesn’t seem to notice the slip of the tongue.

"Do you really think she's in love with me?" Jean feels sort of sorry for him. The guy sounds like a kid asking whether his puppy is really going to make it through surgery.

"One hundred percent sure that Mikasa Ackerman has literally the shittiest taste in dudes I've ever encountered," Jean says solemnly.

Amazingly, Jaeger seems to agree or something, because he laughs. And his laughter is sort of contagious, so Jean laughs a little bit too. The whole thing seems rather surreal. Bonding with Jaeger and encouraging him to date the girl Jean is attracted to. It’s ridiculous, but it isn’t awful or anything of the sort.

"Jean!"

Jean turns at his name being called and finds Marco trotting towards them with a bag of ice in his hands. He can’t help but smile at the sight of his best friend worrying for him enough to ditch the football game and get him ice.

"For your nose," Marco says smiling as he kneels down to place the bag on Jean’s face. Jean smiles, but takes it away from Marco’s hand, wanting to keep their contact as minimum as possible.

It’ll only makes things harder for him.

He thanks Marco, but his smile has faded a little bit and Jean can’t help but feel guilty, even though he isn’t sure of what he’s done wrong this time.

"Hi, Eren. Are you guys getting along better?" Marco asks, turning away from Jean.

Jean hums and Jaeger communicates by grunting and nodding his head. The guy can be a pain in the ass, but he isn’t that awful when he’s more subdued.

"Sorry about the nose," Jaeger says suddenly. Jean did not expect that.

"S'okay,” he says tentatively, “Sorry about what I said. The stuff about your parents and all... That was low.”

Eren hums in acknowledgement. Then he grins widely.

"Do you really think I'm Levi's favorite?" He asks excitedly. Jean shakes his head.

"Nah. I mean, he may have a sort of soft spot for you. As soft as anything that has to do with Coach Levi can be. But Mikasa is his fave, no doubt."

"No way! Coach is always correcting everything she does and making her do the hardest training regiments," Eren complains. Jean feels bad about crushing the kid’s dreams, but he is clearly mistaken.

"Yeah, moron, that's how you know she's the fave. She's team captain after all.”

"Although," Marco says, a smirk playing on his lips, "there might be some nepotism at work, did you know that Levi's last name is also Ackerman? I mean, he said they aren't really related, just a common last name. But still, interesting coincidences right?"

"Holy shit, Levi's last name is Ackerman, that's crazy," Jean says truly intrigued. He doubts that Levi would ever let someone be the team leader just because he shares a last name with them. But the fact that they are both so terrifying when angered and so skilled at football while also sharing a last name is eerily coincidental.

"I can't believe that Levi has a last name," Eren comments. Jean has trouble believing what he just said.

"Eren, everyone has a last name," Marco says softly, looking as surprised by Eren’s stupidity as Jean is.

"Yeah, what the fuck Jaeger, " Jean interjects. Eren glares at them.

"What? I thought he was like, a one-name kind of person. Like Madonna or the Queen of England, hell, even Ymir," he argues.

“You think the Queen doesn’t have a last name?”

"Ymir has a last name too, you fuck-head," Jean says, fighting the urge to face-palm.

"Yeah, but cause it's Nordic and super complicated to pronounce we all just call her Ymir," Marco says laughing, "I can't believe you thought that they didn't have last names, dude."

Jean laughs along with Marco, mostly because he can’t help but smile whenever Marco laughs. He just has a very charismatic sort of laughter. If Marco laughed at one of Mr. Smith’s awful dad jokes, Jean would laugh along, only to hear his own laughter mix with Marco’s.

“How the hell was I supposed to know? Ymir is all like, mysterious and stuff,” Eren counters. Marco shakes his head.

“She’s actually really nice. She introduced me to some of her friends yesterday and they all seemed pretty normal,” he says. Jean is taken aback by that comment.

“When did that happen?” he asks, trying not to sound too harsh and mostly failing. Marco shrugs, trying to act nonchalantly.

“Before I went to Peter’s house.”

“You went to Peter’s house?!” Jean asks. He really does want Marco to be happy, but he is still pretty pissed off at the fact that Peter has to be the one that makes him happy.

“Who’s Peter?” Eren intervenes.

“An asshole,” Jean states. Marco glares at him (or looks as angry as Marco can look which isn’t much, really). Jean sighs.

“I’m kidding. He’s a friend of Marco. He’s not completely awful,” he says. Marco doesn’t seem happy about that comment either, but at least he doesn’t look mad either.

“Why did Ymir introduce you to her friends?” Eren asks and Jean admits that he hadn’t thought about that. Ymir isn’t the kind of girl who one would call ‘friendly’ or ‘nice’ or ‘an upstanding citizen’ so he can’t really understand why she would be introducing Marco to an apparently nice group of people.

“Because I had some things in common with those friends,” Marco says vaguely and that’s when it click for Jean.

She knows that Marco is gay. And Ymir is most certainly not straight (or at least it’s hard to think otherwise when she randomly announces that she’s feeling particularly extra gay on Fridays). She probably tried to introduce Marco to some of her non-heterosexual friends.

Which admittedly is a really nice thing for her to do. Jean actually thinks more tenderly of her, for her attempts to help Marco feel more comfortable.

“What kind of things do you have in common with Ymir’s friends?” Eren asks, sounding truly curious. Marco seems taken aback by the question and can’t seem to find an answer to it.

“They like football too,” Jean supplies. Amazingly, Eren accepts this answer.

“Cool, you should introduce them to Mikasa and me too,” he says. Marco nods, looking gratefully at Jean. Jean just half-smiles and diverts the conversation to some other topic.

They spend some time just sitting there and chatting. After a while, they walk towards the field to see if they can join the game now that they have actually bonded and aren’t actively trying to murder each other.

Mr. Smith raises his eyebrows when he sees them laughing amicably but lets them join the game.

Jean attempts his hardest to enjoy the rest of the game, but the idea of Marco in Peter’s house has managed to bring him down.

He’s happy, though, that Marco and he are on better terms.

That much at least he can have.

*

*

*

Jean takes the ride with Marco back home. It’s not awkward, but neither of them makes a move to put on some music and the background noise that is missing makes everything feel more serious than it should be.

Marco tells Jean about Ymir’s friends on the ride, and he seems to be really happy about it.

“There were was a guy and two girls. The girls were a couple actually. They were both really sweet. The guy was bi, I think. He said he was dating a girl at the moment, so I assumed so, but I don’t really know. He was kind of cold towards me but he was nice nonetheless. They all met thanks to Ymir actually. Like, one of the girls was a bassist in Ymir’s all-girl, punk-rock band…”

“Ymir had a band?!”

“It was a garage band and it was extremely short-lived. The other girl, her name was Maria, she went to dance lessons with Ymir, and she met the guy when she worked as a part-time cashier at 7-Eleven,” Marco tells him.

“So she got them all together. To like… form a non-hetero gang?” Jean asks amused.

“Yeah, they’re called the “Not-So Straight Lines”. They have personalized jackets and everything,” Marco says nonchalantly.

“You’re kidding right?” Marco laughs.

“Yeah, Jean. I’m kidding. But it sounds like a good idea, actually.”

“Yeah, I’d join it,” Jean comments. He means to say is lightly, as a joke, but Marco visibly tenses at the comment.

“I don’t think they’d let you join. You could be an honorary member or something,” Marco comments, attempting to sounds like he too is joking but also failing miserably.

Jean could tell Marco (perhaps he _should_ tell Marco) that he is a perfect candidate for the “Not-So Straight Lines” or whatever. That it also means something to him to kiss another boy. After all, it’s not like Marco wouldn’t understand. But talking about his orientation feels too much like exposing himself. If Marco knows that Jean didn’t just kiss him for shit and giggles then he’ll probably figure out Jean’s feelings for him.

And either way, Jean just doesn’t feel ready to tell him.

“Can I… can I tell you about Peter?” Marco asks suddenly. Jean turns to look at him, but Marco is staring right ahead at the road.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, can I tell you about my ‘date’ or whatever with him? You know, like you tell me about Mikasa or other girls… you can say no if you’d rather I didn’t,” Marco says tentatively.

“I’d… I’d rather you didn’t,” Jean says softly.

He doesn’t want to be an asshole. But hearing how the person you have a crush on made out with someone else isn’t exactly enjoyable. Of course, Marco probably thinks he doesn’t want to hear about it because Jean is disgusted by guy-on-guy action or whatever.

But maybe it’s better that way.

“That’s fine then,” Marco says while shrugging. He’s trying to act like he doesn’t care, but Jean can tell that it’s kind of a big deal to him. He almost changes his mind then, but he’s too much of a coward to listen to something that he just doesn’t want to hear.

The conversation becomes a bit duller and less active after that. When Marco drops Jean at his house, Jean thinks that he looks rather disheartened. It hurts him to think how before this whole mess started he used to smile all the time.

“See you tomorrow,” Marco says. Jean smiles and nods as he closes the door of the car.

When he gets to his room, he blasts music from the stereo in his room, to make up for all the silence that has been plaguing his relationship with Marco lately.

Conveniently, it also works to ignore all the dangerous thoughts running through his head.

*

*

*

Jean has had a very unexpected week to say the least. But Eren standing at his threshold on a Thursday at 9 PM with a thick layer of black eyeliner under his eyes is certainly one of the most bizarre events.

It doesn’t help that the guy looks like a very angry raccoon with all that paint on his eyes.

“What the fuck,” Jean says when he opens the door, because really, he can’t think of anything else to say.

“Nice to see you too,” Eren replies.

“How do you even know where I live?” Jean asks, keeping the door mostly closed, just in case. It’s not like he thinks Eren is a public menace or anything, but it’s better to be cautious. Plus, it’s not like they are best friends or something. He’s not letting him in just because they had a nice chat. Jean’s nose is still swollen and it throbs painfully at the sight of the perpetuator of such injury.

“Marco told me,” Eren says, and he points towards a burgundy pick-up truck that Jean recognizes as Sasha’s truck. A dark-haired head that Jean knows as Marco’s pops up from the back and he waves at Jean.  Jean watches the whole scene warily.

“Have you kidnapped him?” he asks, still distrustful. Eren just rolls his eyes.

“We’re going to do some stuff. You coming or not?” he says visibly exasperated. Without waiting for Jean to answer, he turns around and walks towards the truck. Jean looks one last time questioningly at the vehicle before muttering a curse.

“Mum, I’m going out; I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

Jean doesn’t wait for an answer or for his mum to ask what the hell he thinks he’s doing going out on a school night. He can deal with that later.

Eren smoothly lifts his body and falls inside the back of the pick-up. Jean hears laughter and walks towards it.

“Get in loser, we’re going shopping!” Connie says from the passenger side. Jean can see Sasha on the driver’s side.

“I understood that reference,” Sasha exclaims.

“I didn’t,” Eren comments from the back of the truck. More laughter.

Jean can’t see anyone on the back, probably because they are all lying down. He sighs and climbs into the back as well.

He hits something. Possibly an elbow, with his stomach.

“Sorry,” he hears Marco comment from below him. Jean has fallen on top of him, and something about this closeness is extremely uncomfortable given the past events of the week. He moves quickly away and looks at the teenagers lying down beside him.

Armin and Annie are almost one on top of the other and whoa, when did that happen? Marco is there in front of him. And next to them, Mikasa and Eren. Jean raises and eyebrow at the sight of them. Mikasa’s head is on top of Eren’s chest, and he has one hand comfortably positioned on Mikasa’s waist. It looks friendly, but also extremely intimate.

Eren sees his expression and frowns.

“We’re making space for you, come on dickhead,” he says, sounding impatient. Jean can’t help but smirk at that and he positions himself between Marco and Mikasa.

But as he attempts to make himself comfortable, something presses against his butt. Jean rolls his hips and pushes the object away from him. A baseball bat rolls away from him and collides with a clink against other objects. Jean pushes himself up on his arms to find at least twenty metal baseball bats in the back of the pick-up truck, pushed neatly against one side.

“What the fuck is up with the baseball bats?” He asks, just as Sasha starts the car.

“It’s a surprise,” Eren says, looking far too at ease far the current situation. Jean just becomes more anxious.

“You people do know that this is how most horror movies start, right?”

“If this was a horror movie, you’d probably be the first to die…” Mikasa tells him sounding oddly calmed about the whole affair. The others laugh but Jean can’t see what’s so funny.

“Oh, lighten up,” Sasha tells him, as she drives away from his house, “I mean who doesn’t like surprises?” Jean does not find that comment reassuring at all.

“Wait, so you guys have no idea what is going on either?” he asks more than slightly concerned.

The unison “no” that he receives is no consolation. Nor is Eren’s smug look.

“Do we even know where we’re going at least?” he asks, attempting not to sound too desperate. He wonders if he can still jump out of the moving truck and escape the madness within the vehicle. But then again, he couldn’t just leave Marco to fend on his own.

“Of course, bro. Chill. We’re just heading towards the dump,” Connie says.

Jean just hits his head against the truck.

“We’re all going to fucking die,” he murmurs as Sasha speeds up and away from civilization.

*

*

*

The dump looks like a dump. Obviously. The place smells like dirt and decomposing fruit and it’s filled with all sorts of discarded objects, from broken TVs to dolls missing limbs to old, rusty cars.

There isn’t much time for sight-seeing though, because Eren immediately instructs everyone to grab a bat. Sasha and Connie grab two bats each, grinning manically at each other. Armin and Marco both grab one bat each and wait patiently for Eren’s instructions. Mikasa grabs one. When Annie grabs her bat, she begins to twirl it around and making some pretty complex juggling with it which Jean must admit looks really cool.

Jean doesn’t want to act until he’s sure that they aren’t about to do something extremely illegal. The last thing he wants is leaving his fingerprints on a bat that was used during a bank robbery or something.

He turns to Eren for answers, but the guy is too busy staring at Mikasa while Mikasa stares back and Jean wants to puke, honestly. They look like the human manifestations of the heart-eye emojis and it’s gross.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your trip to catatonic Wonderland, but the whole crew here wants to know just why the fuck we’re here?” Jean says, disturbing Eren from his zen state.

“Before we start,” Eren says, training his eyes towards Jean, “you need to put on the mandatory eyeliner.”

That just crosses a line for Jean. Going into a dump with 20 baseball bats without any idea of what they are about to do is sketchy enough. But he’s not putting on make-up.

Everyone teases him because he is more aware of the way he looks, because he tries to actually dress nice and comb his hair unlike most other guys.

Putting on make-up would just validate the metrosexual status that Jaeger is so vehement on giving him.

“I’m not putting on make-up, I’m not a chick,” he replies simply.

Connie laughs and Jean turns to look at him. The guy must have used like three eyeliners on his face, because it’s all just a big, black smudge rather than some light contouring.

“What, you think wearing eyeliner is girly bro? Man up, we’re looking badass here,” he says and Sasha nods several times.

“Yoh, guys in guy-liner look damn hot, too,” she says and Connie’s smile visibly falters before he blushes deeply. Sasha doesn’t seem to realize the effect of her words on him.

“I don’t fucking care,” Jean argues “a guy wearing make-up, it’s just so…”

“Gay?” Marco says, sounding angry and hurt, and Jean’s whole body tenses. Everyone stops laughing. Marco seriously thinks that Jean dislikes him because he’s gay, and that pisses him off. But he can’t bring himself to correct him, because yeah, he doesn’t want people to know he isn’t straight. He is sick and tired of being constantly teased, even if it’s just in jest.

The idea of coming out to his friends actually terrifies him as much as the idea of Marco finding out about his feeling for him and blatantly rejecting them.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s why he hasn’t told Marco about his sexuality or the way he feels for him. Because frankly, he’s more afraid of being rejected and labeled than of spending his whole life hiding who he really is, as sad as that sounds.

“Fine,” Eren says, interrupting Jean’s thoughts and the tense silence, “no make-up for Jean because he’s a fucking bore.”

Despite the insult, Jean can tell that Eren’s comment was actually to get him out of that situation, and he can’t help but feel really bad for all the time he has spent actively disliking him. Even with all his flaws, he is a great guy.

Better than Jean at least.

“It’s for the best. I brought normal eyeliner and horses can only use hypoallergenic,” Mikasa adds in the usual dead-panned tone she saves for telling jokes, and everyone laughs, returning the atmosphere back to normal.

“What’s the plan, captain?” Armin asks, excitedly.

Eren looks around him, at each one of them present, before grabbing a baseball bat and feeling the weight of it in his hands.

“It’s pretty simple, really,” Eren says, tone careful and measured. Walking calmly towards and old television set, he nods towards the object.

“The plan,” he says, “is to fuck shit up!” And he swings the bat down, crushing the TV screen and sending thousands of tiny glass shards flying through the air. He turns to find another target, a car so rusted and old that flowers are growing inside of it. With a swing of his bat, he tears off the whole roof.

Jean immediately feels the adrenaline pumping through him.

“Holy shit!” he exclaims, excited and fearful both at once.

"I'm going to exterminate all this trash!!!" Eren proclaims, and hits the car again, denting it further.

"Oh, shit, Eren don't do that," Armin says but Annie puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Let him break it," she says, her eyes oddly sharp and more intense than usual. She then swings her bat right into a wooden desk that stands wobbling in three legs. The thing is shattered into several pieces.

“Fuck yeah!” Sasha screams, and proceeds to hit a pile of random trash. Connie follows happily behind her.

Armin shrugs and proceeds to smash the car that Eren is smashing, with Mikasa joining them as well.

Jean turns to comment to Marco about the craziness that he is experiencing right now, but he can’t find him anywhere. Turning back around, he spots Marco daringly climbing to the top of a mountain of discarded, ancient technologic objects to beat up an old fridge and topple it down.

“What the hell,” Jean mutters, warily grabbing a bat. Just as he positions the bat in his hand, an object comes hurling towards him. He hits it as hard as he can and sees the object (a barely recognizable toaster) soar through the air as Sasha whoops and Connie shouts “Homerun!”

Laughter bubbles inside Jean as he proceeds to hit a computer monitor near him. He must look demented, cackling while repeatedly hitting the tattered object. But he can’t help it. As much as he hates to admit it, he’s totally loving this.

It feels good to let go every once in a while. More adrenaline shoots through him and he feels like doing something outrageous and dangerous, like jumping off a moving car or kissing Marco until his mouth is sore.

Marco shouts at him to climb the mountain of rubble and decay with him, and Jean does so, stepping on broken toys and discarded books on his way up. Marco thrusts his arm towards him and Jean grabs it and let’s himself be pulled forward. Their chest clash as they both stand on the peak of the mount, laughing their asses off at nothing particularly funny. Their faces are so close that a mere inch would have their mouths pressed together, but as reckless as Jean is being he knows that some things are just out of reach.

“I say we break the stereo set. Or the old radio over there,” Jean says after he catches his breath.

“I say we do both,” Marco tells him excitedly.

The way Marco is looking right now, all that barely contained enthusiasm, is making Jean’s heartstring tug almost painfully. He feels happy, without having to overthink his joy, and that is strangely refreshing.

They both jump down and start hitting a large stereo set with their bats. They smash it into tiny pieces and then they go for the radio. The cracks and crashes of everything being broken apart is absolutely satisfying. At one point, after breaking down a beaten mini-van, Jean realizes that there’s music playing and even though he can’t remember the name of the song he knows the lyrics by heart and he sings along to them.

Marco joins him, laughing. Jean is so dizzy with adrenaline and elation he feels drunk with it all.

“God, I love you,” he tells Marco. Marco’s smile widens.

“I know. I know. I love you too. You aren’t drunk, are you?” Jean shakes his head widely.

“No man. I’m high on life.” Marco laughs again.

“Good. That’s good, Jean.”

The destruction continues. Jean takes small brakes to change the radio station and smoke cigarettes. Marco throws a vintage alarm clock at him at one point and Jean hits it with his bat. They start fooling around, throwing small objects at each other and attempting to bat them. They miss most of the hits because they can’t stop laughing.

Connie and Sasha cheer and boo them from the back of the pick-up truck while Annie puts on an elaborate jugglery show with two bats, throwing them skyward and catching them with ease while Armin watches astounded.

The last act of violence is performed by Mikasa Ackerman and it is absolutely devastating.

 

Jean hears her scream, a primal loud thing that silences everyone around her. Both Marco and he turn to look at her. She’s sweating and her hands are bleeding but Jean thinks she look somehow more beautiful like that, or at least more believable. Like she was born to fight and tear things down.

Then, with some sort of undefined finesse, she throws the bat she’s holding. The bat makes a clear arc towards a nearby lamplight, and the things bursts into a thousand glass shards. Jean sees the glass raining down and then turns to look at Marco. His eyes are trained on the spectacle before them, but he must sense that Jean is looking at him because he turns to face him.

For a few seconds, they are looking at one another and Jean just knows that it’s all in his face. That what he feels for Marco is etched on the curves of his mouth and his widely opened eyes. That Marco can see him and understand that they belong to each other, some way, somehow.

But that only lasts for a mere moment, and when Marco diverts his eyes to look back at Mikasa, Jean knows it was all illusions and tricks of the light and nothing more.

“What the fuck do you fuckers think you’re doing?!” Someone shouts. Jean turns to see a short, fat man in a security uniform looking at them from a few meters away. 

“Shit,” Jean exclaims, “everyone in the fucking car!”

Nobody questions his command. They all run towards the pick-up truck while Sasha tries to start it up. Marco seems frozen in his spot, so Jean has to grab his hand to tag him alone. They all pile in, elbows clashing against ribs and mouths pressed against the cold metal of the car.

“Come back here!” the security guy screams, now from much closer.

“Start it the fuck up, Sash,” Connie screams, desperately grabbing his closely-cropped head.

“I am! Fuck it, I am!” Sasha screams back, but her cries and thankfully drowned by the sound of the engine.

They all sigh in relief as the pick-up truck drives quickly away from the dump. All of them are silent, still tense after the whole affair.

“Can I just say,” Marco says, lying on top of Jean, “Mikasa that was fucking amazing.”

And perhaps it’s the rush of what they’ve just been though, or the fact that Marco Bodt, absolute sweetheart, has just used a cuss word, but the whole thing seems suddenly very funny.

Eren starts laughing, and soon everyone else joins, even Annie, who has a particularly sweet and childish giggle that Jean would have never associated with her before.

“You were right Eren,” Jean says grinning and still out of breath, “that was a fucking experience.”

*

*

*

Marco and Jean are dropped off first at Marco’s house. Jean had texted his mum earlier after he had checked his phone to find 5 missing calls and panicked. He told her he had left to sleep over at his best friend’s house, although he didn’t explain why. It was fine in the end. Jean’s mother pretty much forgets about her anger whenever Jean mentions Marco. He has that effect on people.

Plus, Jean misses his friend. The whole week has been strained and difficult and even though he isn’t getting the guy at the end of the movie, he still has a fantastic friend by his side.

“We have leftover pizza,” Marco tells him as they walk in.

“Oh, fuck yeah. That’s exactly what I need. Cold pizza and diet coke, modern paradise.”

“Amen,” Marco answers solemnly and they both start laughing.

Marco’s mum shouts at them to stay quiet from upstairs.

“Sorry, mum,” Marco calls back and makes a sign for Jean to go upstairs. Jean nods and walks towards Marco’s room. He pulls the extra mattress from underneath Marco’s bed and starts making his own impromptu bed.

The first time Jean stayed over at Marco’s they watched a silly horror movie. They were 8 and Jean wanted to act tough or something. Marco hated it. He was so scared that he couldn’t sleep that night and Jean begrudgingly accepted to hold his hand until he fell asleep (thing is, Jean was actually just as scared as Marco was.)

It’s strange to think of that now, ten years later. Things used to be easier when he was too interested in the Power Rangers to care for girls and boys and stupid crushes.

Jean flops onto Marco’s bed as he waits for him to come. The mattress is slighted dented but he finds that strangely comforting. Jean turns around and finds out that Marco’s pillow smells like Marco’s shampoo but he doesn’t inhale it or anything, because that would be weird. Maybe.

He does not resist the temptation, though, to try on Marco’s hoodie which is laid neatly on top of a desk chair. But it’s not like that is inherently strange. Jean has used Marco’s clothes before and he’ll have to borrow a uniform from his tomorrow as well.

If the hoodie just happens to smell like Marco as well, that’s just a bonus really.

“Are you cold?” Marco asks, surprising Jean. He turns to find his friend attempting to carry a Tupperware containing some pizza, a large bottle of diet coke and two glasses.

“Sort of,” Jean lies as he grabs the bottle and one of the glasses from Marco. They sit down on the floor and Jean pours coke on both glasses. Marco thanks him and smiles.

“I almost forgot,” he says as Jean reaches for a slice of pizza, “I got something for you from the dumpster.” Jean raises an eyebrow at that.

“You got me a garbage gift?”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds!” Marco says, laughing, “I even cleaned it in the sink with detergent and alcohol.”

“The risk of tetanus still troubles me…” Jean jokes. Marco elbows him softly. Then, he reaches inside the left pocket of his jeans and retrieves a small something.

“It’s a pin,” he announces, handing it to Jean.  He looks at it, and yes, it is indeed a pin. A metallic pin with a flowery background and the words “France, France Revolution” written in hot pink neon.

“I found it when I was climbing the trash mountain, I thought I’d suit you,” Marco says, sounding oddly shy.

“Will the French jokes ever stop?” Jean mournfully laments. Marco laughs.

“Oh, come on. It’s cute when I’m the one making fun of you,” he says. Jean laughs and sticks the pin to Marco’s hoodie.

“Yeah, it’s cute. Thank you.”

“You can put it on your backpack; you’ll be the coolest kid in school. I’m sure it’ll help you make friends,” Marco says, pointing at the pin. Jean punches him lightly on the arm.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he says calmly. Deep inside he’s kind of having a heart attack, though. As silly as it seems, the tiny gift means a lot to Jean. Just the idea of Marco thinking about him makes him feel happier. It makes him feel hopeful and that is the worst part.

Jean thanks Marco again just to see him smile brightly, but then proceeds to change the topic. They spend a while eating and chatting as they usually do, relaxed and not really taking anything seriously. Jean looks at Marco’s alarm clock at some point and realizes it’s almost 2 AM.

“Holy shit, we should really go to sleep,” he says. Marco turns to look at the clock too and mumbles a curse.

“Yeah, wow, time really flies by when I’m with you,” he says distractedly. Jean turns to hide the smile on his face.

“That’s really tacky, bro,” he says. Marco laughs and gets up.

“I’ll take this stuff downstairs. Borrow a shirt and pajama bottoms from…”

“The second drawer. I know,” Jean says. Marco smiles at him and heads down.

After Jean is done changing, he puts on Marco’s hoodie again and settles on top of the mattress. Marco returns shortly after and he pauses when he grabs his pajamas. After a moment of tense awkwardness, he sighs.

“You want me to change in the bathroom?” he asks. Jean is taken aback by the question, but he shakes his head.

“I’ve seen you naked, you know?” he says, attempting to sound calm. He seems to manage to do so, because Marco nods and quickly changes in front of him. Jean averts his eyes until he’s done, anyway.

“I don’t know how we’re going to wake up tomorrow. I’m seriously exhausted,” Marco says as he gets inside his bed. Jean nods languidly.

“Want to sleep in the bed?” Marco asks after a pause. It takes a moment for Jean’s brain to process those words and understand that Marco is asking whether he prefers the bed over the mattress, not if he wants to sleep with him in it.

“I’m fine,” he answers weakly, “Let’s just go to sleep.”

“We should take a shower tomorrow,” Marco adds as he turns off the lamp next to his bed. Jean once again pictures things differently for a moment, imagining taking a shower with Marco. His libido is being kind of an asshole, honestly.

“Alright.”

“I’ll wake you up earlier then. Good night, Jean.” Jean closes his eyes for a moment before answering back.

“Good night, Marco,” he says quietly. Jean wonders briefly what it would be like to reach for Marco’s hand now and grab it like he did almost a decade ago. He tentatively traces the corner of Marco’s mattress but he doesn’t make another move. Minutes pass and Marco’s quiet snores fill the room.

Only then does Jean dare to touch the tip of his fingers to Marco’s palm. But it’s almost a whisper of a touch, a nothing lost in the vacuum of a dark room.

Jean has trouble sleeping that night.

 

 


	6. Cockfighting and other crimes (Friday)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is 10k+ words of silliness and some plot and I apologize for that

 

“Good times for a change

See, the luck I've had

Can make a good man

Turn bad

So please, please, please

Let me, let me, let me

Let me get what I want

This time”

-Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want by The Smiths

 

"Are you sure you don't want another toast, Jean?" Marco’s mum is already holding two slices of bread as she asks this. Except for the freckles on her face and her caring nature, Jean has always had a hard time seeing any sort of similarity with her son. It’s moments like this when they seem more alike.

"Mum, he said he didn't want any more," Marco argues, although a smile is still clear on his face.

"It's fine, thank you Mary," Jean says. Marco's mother nods but puts more bread on the toaster regardless of what Jean just said. Marco sighs and Jean laughs.

"Mothers... Can't say no to them," he jokes.

"That's cause they don't listen," Marco whispers.

"Well, I heard that," Mary shots back, glaring at her son. Marco smiles sheepishly.

"We should get going anyway, we're going to be late," Jean says, looking at his watch. Marco checks his phone and nods, confirming Jean's statement.

“Already?” Mary asks, sounding distraught.

"Yeah, we should go. Thanks for the breakfast, mum," he says, standing up and hugging her quickly. Marco’s mum looks disheartened.

"Are you sure you've had enough? Why don't you take some snacks? I have mini-pretzels," she says.

"No thanks, mum, we don't..."

"Oh yeah, mini-pretzels!" Jean chimes in.  Mary instantly brightens up and gives Jean three bags of mini-pretzels and an orange. Marco just shakes his head.

"Have a good day, darling," Mary says and she kisses Jean on the cheek. He grins at her and thanks her for everything before going outside with Marco.

As they walk towards the Corolla, Marco attempts to trip Jean against his foot. Jean stumbles and kicks back at him, causing him to laugh.

Jean, who is admittedly distracted by the wonderful view that is Marco Bodt smiling so hard his eyes are closed and his tiny dimples are showing, doesn't notice the fence in front of him. He crashes hard against it, only managing to make Marco laugh even harder.

"Shut up," Jean says, hiding his own smile.

"Such a graceful creature," Marco jokes as they get in the car. He starts the engine while Jean glares at him.

"Music?"

"Music."

Jean quickly plugs in his iPod and chooses a random song.

"Oh, I don't know this one," Marco comments.

"Yeah, it's like, by this Icelandic indie solo singer who used to be in a band but they had to split cause one of them wanted to be a visual artist and recently they…" Jean takes a look at his friend's face and sighs, "You're just dying to make a hipster joke right now, aren’t you?"

"You kind of make it hard on us, Jean," Marco admits laughing, "Indie singer from Iceland and visual artists."

"Would it help if I told you I only knew of them because I heard their songs in Grey's Anatomy?"

"Wow, that is unusually mainstream of you, Jean Kirschstein," he says, nodding appreciatively.

"You can't box me, man," Jean says smiling, "I'm not like other people."

"Well you kind of ruined it with a comment though," Marco tells him and they both laugh.

"Shut up," Jean says, punching him softly on the shoulder.

"Awww, don't say that. You know you love me," he teases. Jean frowns at that comment, but quickly replaces that with a smile that feels uncomfortably fake.

"Yeah,” he says truthfully, “I really do."

“Adorable,” Marco says sweetly and Jean just rolls his eyes at him and continues to pretend that he isn’t desperately in love with his best friend for the rest of the ride.

Honestly, he’s almost a pro at it by this point.

*

*

*

Spanish class drags on for an excruciatingly long period of time, especially since it’s one of the few classes Jean doesn’t share with Marco and honestly he is kind of lacking in the friend’s department. He isn’t _completely_ friendless, but he has a hard time keeping up with small talk and such.

Really, Jean just wanted to go to French class, like Marco, but his mum told him that, as a native French speaker, those classes were too basic for him. Jean doesn’t understand how going to a class were he would totally get straight A’s would be a bad idea.

He is in the middle of not listening to his teacher explaining past verbs or something and doodling on his desk top when Sasha hits him in the head with a pencil. Jean turns to find her sitting literally next to him and briefly wonders why she couldn’t just tap on his shoulder or something, but then realizes that you cannot apply logic to Sasha Brauss.

“What?”

“I like your drawing. Homeboy’s got some skills,” she says, pointing at the some silly sketch of a guy that looks suspiciously like a freckle-less Marco. He quickly enlarges the guy’s nose to make it seem less obvious.

“I made a little sketchy-sketch myself,” Sasha says proudly and shows him a drawing of a tiny potato man with the caption ‘Tiny Potato Man Taking a Tiny Walk’.

“What is it with you and potatoes?” Jean asks, slightly perturbed.

“It’s a metaphor.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“The fault in our potatoes,” Sasha whispers, eyes-wide.

“Stop that,” Jean says, while attempting to stifle his laughter. Their Spanish teacher glares at them for a moment, before continuing with the class.

“I heard you play the guitar. I too play the guitar,” Sasha says, when she deems it safe enough to speak.

“Are you attempting to bond with me?”

“You’re not very good at this socializing thing, are you?” she asks, drawing a tiny potato man next to Jean’s sketch.

“Is anyone?” Sasha points her sharp pencil tip at him, almost stabbing him in the eye and nods.

“Good point. _Bro_.”

“Thanks… Bro,” Jean says hesitantly. Sasha nods in approval once again and grabs a black pen from her backpack. She grabs his hand and draws yet another tiny potato man on the back of Jean’s hand, this one with a tiny hat.

Jean briefly wonders if this is how one gets initiated in a gang. Hushed conversations and ink on your skin.

Sasha puts her hand on top of his desk when she’s done and hands him the pen.

“Now you,” she tells him, presenting her own hand ceremoniously. Jean doesn’t even hesitate and begins to draw a stag. Spanish class becomes much more bearable after that.

*

*

*

“We’re meeting at the Tree,” Marco informs him as soon as he gets out of the class with Sasha. Connie is by his side, nodding sternly.

“What tree?” Jean asks.

“The Tree, bro. You know, the Triple Threat meeting spot. Ackerman-Jaeger-Artlet Squad’s hangout. That tree,” Connie says.

“Eren won’t like that,” Jean grumbles as they make their way to the cafeteria.

“On first name basis now, huh?” Marco teases him and Jean literally hisses at him like an angry cat.

“Pizza Friday, fuck yeah,” Sasha chants as she proceeds to walk towards the food, skipping the line of younger students.

“Can she do that?” Marco asks concerned. Connie shrugs and they follow behind.

“I am a _senior_. I am powerful enough to do as I desire,” she says while she indicates the lunch lady which toppings she wants. The lunch lady must know Sasha well enough, because she just grabs a whole pizza and gives it to her on a tray.

“Isn’t it mean, though? Think of the children,” Marco adds. Sasha turns to look at them and sighs.

“You kids cool with us cutting line, right?” she asks a pair of seemingly terrified freshmen. They nod effusively. Marco continues to look concerned.

“Are you already planning the final senior prank?” one of them asks shyly. Sasha immediately smirks and turns to Connie.

“Maybe we are, kiddo. Maybe we are,” she says and the freshmen just stare at her in awe. Jean isn’t surprised by how legendary Sasha’s and Connie’s stunts and pranks have become. Even he is intrigued by what the hell they’re planning for the last year prank.

Although he can’t see how they are going to surpass the Swimming Pool Incident of last year.

“Can’t you give us any clues?” he asks while the freshmen eagerly nod. She turns to look at him, suddenly serious, then turns both ways as if making sure no one is listening.

“Only you,” Sasha says, “because you are a fellow senior.” She then leans in, putting her face on his shoulder. Jean holds his breath, waiting for the secret.

“I have no fucking idea of what the fuck we are doing,” she whispers in his ear, “but we got to keep the crowd riled up. So just pretend I said something awesome.” Jean turns to look at the younger students staring expectantly.

“That. Is. _Fucking_. Insane,” he says solemnly and their faces light up with excitement. He is unable to hide a smile at that, but when he turns he finds a slightly pissed off, jealous Connie which makes the whole thing somehow funnier.

After they get their pizza slices, they make their way to the Tree, which is already occupied by Annie, Armin and Mikasa.

Eren arrives a minute after them, and the look of surprise on his face is sort of priceless.

"What are you guys doing here?" he asks, not as pissed off as Jean thought he would be.

"We were under the impression that we were friends," Sasha says, "and friends have lunch together. And give their other friends food. Like that extra cookie you've got there. You eating that or what?"

Eren sighs but sits down without any form of complaint. Still, Jean can’t help but tease him.

"Sorry to invade your precious Tree," he says sarcastically, taking a bite from the pizza crusts that Marco doesn't eat.

"Whatever," he replies sitting next to Mikasa.  As soon as he does so, he and Mikasa have their now classic “let’s look at each other like some tacky couple from a cheap rom-com starring Ashton Kutcher” moment.

"Gross," Jean mumbles. He looks at Marco for a moment, wondering if he ever looks at him all goofy like that. He really hopes not.

"How rude. You guys don't ask us to have lunch too?"

Jean turns to find Historia, Bertolt and Ymir with lunch trays and food bags on their hands, eager to sit down with them. Well, Ymir isn’t exactly eager but she doesn’t look like she absolutely loathes the idea which in a way is sort of an improvement.

Reiner is also with them, much to Jean’s distaste. He always suspected that the guy wasn’t as nice as he seemed and he has proven his hypothesis in these past days. He makes sure to glare at him for a few seconds, although Reiner barely seems to notice.

"And Mikasa told me you went out to have fun without us last night," Historia chimes in, primly sitting next to the Tree, "not very courteous. But I'll let it pass if you come to my house party tonight." Out of her lunch bag, she takes a small sushi tray which Jean eyes hungrily. She notices this, and puts a piece of California Roll on his plate with her chopsticks. He thanks her, taken aback. Historia might be a posh millionaire heiress but it is physically impossible to dislike her, he realizes.

"We broke shit with baseball bats, it was awesome," Connie tells her, and she covers her mouth with her dainty hand in surprise.

"Shit, you guys go out causing anarchy and don't invite me? That's fucking low, Jaeger," Ymir comments, and Jean has to agree with her on that.

"Maybe next time," Mikasa says, and the promise of it is more inviting than Jean will ever admit.

"What about the baseball bat?” Annie intervenes, smirking, “The one Mikasa dropped when she run away?"

"I didn't run away.”

"Fuck, of course we run away, that dumpster guy was crazy, bro," Connie says.

"Dumpster guy?" Bertolt asks. He looks terrified, even though he probably has no idea what they’re talking about.

"Yeah, he chased us with a rifle, man," Sasha says, crumbs falling from her mouth. Jean sighs and shakes his head.

"No he didn't, you dweeb," he replies and Marco laughs. Historia doesn’t seem bothered by Sasha’s exaggeration though, because she asks her excitedly to tell the whole story.

Connie and Sasha look at each other and nod. Then the both stand up dramatically and pose.

"Better yet, we'll act it out," Sasha says.

The rest of lunch break is one of the most entertaining things Jean has ever experienced. Sasha and Connie act out every scene, from the moment Eren texted Connie asking for their help, to how they ‘borrowed’ the baseball bats from the school’s shed after Coach Levi oh-so-casually left it open. Sasha’s re-make of Mikasa breaking the lamplight is even more dramatic than the original thing, and Connie’s impersonation of the security guy chasing after their car for five kilometers is both terrifying and hilarious.

Jean can’t even help it and he laughs so hard that he starts crying while lying on the grass. When he manages to control himself, he looks up to find Marco tenderly smiling down at him. Jean grins back but Marco looks away, biting his bottom lip and looking concerned.

Jean realizes then that, no matter how normal it all seems, there relationship isn’t as it used to be. And maybe it’ll never be.

He attempts to ignore that thought but the idea becomes lodged inside his mind in the most uncomfortable of ways, and even though he is surrounded by people, Jean has never felt more isolated.

*

*

*

*

Even though Jean’s mood is constantly fluctuating during the day (alternating between the desolate idea of never feeling truly comfortable with Marco again and the hilarious jokes that Sasha keeps making in class) he must admit that football practice is pretty fucking fantastic. For the first time that week, they manage to play decently, perhaps even better than they usually did, even with the strange mix-and-match teams that Mr. Smith and Coach Levi have forced them on to. Jean assists Eren in a goal, Mikasa and Annie are aggressively good when working together and Sasha and Connie must have realized they are playing for opposite teams, because they only pass the ball between each other like five times.

Jean’s team loses the game, which isn’t that surprising considering they are playing against Mikasa Ackerman, actual football prodigy. And it’s only by two goals so defeat doesn’t sting that badly.

At the end of the match, Historia asks for a moment to speak which Coach Levi allows with a nonchalant shrug.

Historia hastily stands in front of them, looking very much like a confident kid in primary about to deliver a kickass show and tell presentation or something.

“I would like to remind everyone about the party at my house tonight,” she announces cheerfully, “Remember, it starts at 1 AM so be on time. Oh, and bring your best outfits, I know you’re all going to look super-hot. Any questions?”

“What about money? How much do you need for the drinks?” Reiner asks annoyingly. Or at least his voice sounds annoying to Jean.

Historia gracefully waves her hand in a way that reminds Jean of the Royal Wedding he saw with his mum some years ago, for some reason.

“No need for that, I’ll pay for the alcohol. It’s my party after all.” Applauses and cheers erupt from the football players. Mr. Smith looks suddenly appalled.

“But you’re all underage,” Mr. Smith cuts in, “I mean, you guys don’t really drink, do you?”

Coach Levi stares at him, one eyebrow raised. Jean remembers Mr. Smith’s comment about his ‘punk-rock’ youth and wonders just how hypocritical he’s being right now.

“Oh, hey, can I bring my playlist for the party?” Connie asks excitedly. Historia touches and index finger to her lips, as if she was thinking.

“Does it include “All-star”?” she asks after a moment. Connie nods.

“Yeah!”

“Then no. Ymir is in charge of the music.” Ymir nods solemnly in agreement.

“I have a question. Can I go?” Levi asks looking serious to Jean’s surprise. Then again, that is his default look.

“Of course, Coach!” Historia says, probably charmed by the prospect of having one their coolest teacher at one of her parties.

“Levi, no,” Mr. Smith says.

“Levi, yes. You heard that Erwin, free drinks at Christa’s mansion, hell fucking yeah. I mean, hell freaking yeah or whatever.”

“My name is Historia though.”

“That’s what I said.”

“He’s not really going,” Mr. Smith says, smiling nervously.

“Why not, though, Coach Levi is young enough to hang out with as, the cool kids. I wanna party with Coach, it sounds awesome,” Sasha argues.

“He’s thirty and that’s inappropriate. So, yeah, no,” Mr. Smith counters. Jean is shocked by that fact. Maybe it’s the short stature but Coach Levi doesn’t look a day past twenty five, even with the thick dark circles and the constant frowns.

“Thirty?! Dang Coach, you looking good for thirty, bro.”

“I bathe in the blood of obnoxious teenagers. Keeps me young,” the Coach says sounding proud. Annie nods in appreciation, much to Jean’s growing concern.

“I thought it was your level of immaturity,” Mr. Smith murmurs and everyone laughs while Sasha and Connie chime in for a “buuuurn” chorus. Jean swears he can see proud father tears falling from Erwin’s eyes at the fact that one of his jokes was finally well received. He wonders if it’s worth it, though, when he catches the murderous way in which Coach Levi is glaring at him.

“Whatever, are we done here or what?” he says giving them all the Ackerman Death Stare. It doesn’t take more than two seconds for everyone to get the hell out of there. Jean and Marco quickly make it to the car, where they burst out laughing once they are sure that Coach Levi can’t hear them.

“Holy shit, Mr. Smith’s got some sass,” Jean comments. Marco shakes his head.

“I bet you a large pepperoni pizza that he’s going to show up dead in three days,” he says, “I’ll even throw in some mozzarella sticks.”

“Someone’s not going to get laid for a month,” Jean adds laughing. Marco laughs too but suddenly stops.

“Wait, you mean they really are..?” Jean nods.

“Yeah, they’ve been together for like a decade or something. The rumors are true. Except that one about Levi being a former con-artist turned bodyguard. I think that one is a bit farfetched,” he says. Marco sighs.

“This school is much gayer than I originally thought. Maybe we should start a LGBTQIA+ group or something,” he says.

“Oh man, but I thought you were going to form a gang. What about the ‘Not-So-Straight-Lines’?” Jean jokes.

“Clearly the LGBTQIA+ group is all just a front to hide our illicit gang activities,” Marco assures him.

“Oh, that’s much better.” They both laugh.

“By the way,” Jean asks, “are you driving us to Historia’s party tonight or is it Jaeger’s turn?”

Marco’s smile evaporates and he remains silent. Jean is pretty much instantly concerned.

“What?” he asks suspiciously. After a long pause, Marco sighs.

“Don’t be pissed. But I’m going with Peter to the party,” he says quietly.

Jean isn’t pissed. He’s infuriated, extremely jealous, absolutely devastated and definitely betrayed.

But totally not pissed.

“So how am I supposed to go then?” he asks, trying really hard not to be an asshole about the situation.

“I can ask Eren or Reiner to give you a ride. Don’t worry, I know it’s my fault for not telling you this so I’m going to get someone to take you,” Marco says, sounding guilty and thus making Jean feel guiltier.

“It’s not your fault. You never said that you were going with me.”

“Yeah, but we always go together and…”

“Not always,” Jean cuts in. Marco winces at that comment.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. Jean shakes his head.

“Stop apologizing. I’ll find someone to take me. It’s whatever,” he says. Marco nods, still looking guilt-stricken. Jean wishes he could enjoy seeing Marco feel bad about the situation, but it has always made him uncomfortable to see his best friend concerned.

As Marco drops him off, Jean opens the door of the car, but turns to look at him.

“We could hang out. I mean, before you meet with Peter,” he says. Marco half-smiles but shakes his head.

“I’m sorry. I’m going to meet with him now.”

“Of course you are,” Jean answers back without thinking and he slams the door of the car before Marco can apologize even though he’s the one being an asshole.

Again.

*

*

*

Jean decides not to go to the party. Then he realizes that if he doesn’t go then Marco will spend the whole night with Peter and that’s unacceptable. Then he tells himself that he’s being a jealous idiot and that he shouldn’t intervene in their relationship. Then he comes to the conclusion that he doesn’t care about what he _should_ do, but about what he wants to do.

He keeps making plan and scratching them up, wondering whether it’s better to continue ignoring the fact that, yeah, Marco has a freaking boyfriend and it sucks or confront the situation head on and go have some fun at Historia’s party.

It takes Jean ages to decide what he’s going to do and soon enough it’s midnight and he still hasn’t decided what to do. When he grabs his phone he has at least ten unread messages from Marco which he promptly ignores because he just can’t deal with them at this moment. He wonders whether he should text Eren and ask him for a ride, but he feels like their friendship isn’t at that point.

Jean ends up smoking inside his bathroom while showering to hide the smell without any clear plans in mind. He picks out and outfit, black jeans and a white t-shirt, boots and a red flannel shirt. But he doesn’t change into them because there’s no way his parents are lending him their car this late and he has absolutely no ride to the party.

He’s about to give up and just go to sleep when his phone starts playing a Modest Mouse song he must have picked randomly as the ringtone at some point. He checks the caller ID expecting it to be Marco but he is shocked to find “Reiner Braun” in clear white letters. He hesitates for a moment, but ends up answering mostly out of curiosity.

“Don’t hang up,” Reiner says immediately.

“Why would I answer the phone if I was planning on hanging up?”

“I don’t know, people aren’t rational when they’re angry, Jean,” Reiner says patiently. He sounds like a father chiding his child and it pisses Jean even more.

“What the hell do you want?”

“Me? Nothing. But I heard you needed a ride…”

“I totally don’t,” Jean quickly replies. Reiner laughs gruffly on the other end of the line

“Marco doesn’t agree with that statement. He texted me asking if I could take you to Historia’s, little prince.”

“Well, I don’t agree with Marco,” Jeans says, sounding more petulant than he intended, “and I’m not going to the party. So whatever.” Reiner is silent for a moment. Then he sighs.

“Are you really going to let the fact that I was kind of a tool to you ruin your chances with the boy you have a crush on?”

Jean’s heart stops at those words. His mind begins to run, finding ways to deflect Reiner’s argument, to show him that he’s wrong. That he isn’t absolutely in love with Marco Bodt. But nothing comes and after a long pause Jean realizes that there’s no way he’s going to change Reiner’s mind.

“He’s dating someone. It doesn’t matter,” he answers tiredly, “plus, you don’t even know what I feel for him. Don’t draw your own conclusions, asshole.” Reiner laughs again at that.

“I know that you made out with him at a party. I know that you kissed him again two days ago. And I know that you hate his boyfriend for unfunded reasons. It’s kind of hard not to draw a conclusion.”

“Whoa, whoa, how do you know about the kiss?”

“I was there…”

“I mean the other kiss,” Jean says, rolling his eyes.

“Oh. Right. Ymir told me,” Reiner answers casually.

“She what?! She told anyone else?”

“Calm down. Only me. We queer kids need to stay united, you know.”

“I don’t care why she… what do you mean by ‘we queer kids’?” Jean asks, slowly deciphering Reiner’s words.

“Aha! I have your interest. Be ready in ten for more information. Bye,” Reiner says and then hangs up the phone. Jean looks at his iPhone incredulously. He is stubborn enough to ignore what Reiner said and just go to bed. But he’s tired of doing nothing and knowing nothing. Perhaps it’s all just a lie to attract Jean and take him to the party, but that still doesn’t explain why the hell Reiner is vouching for him to get it on with Marco.

In the end, he dresses up and waits for Reiner downstairs, although he makes him wait for five minutes before he goes outside. Reiner’s Volkswagen Passat is vibrating, possibly due to the volume of the electronic bass that can be heard even from inside the house. Dreading his life choices, Jean open the passenger door and climbs in. Reiner is too buzzy nodding his head to the music to even say hi, so Jean unplugs his phone to make sure he pays attention. The blaring music is cut off and Reiner immediately turns to look at him.

“You came,” he says, nodding. Jean doesn’t bother replying.

“What do you mean by ‘queer’?”

“You kind of have a one-tracked mind, don’t you?” Reiner asks, ignoring Jean’s question blatantly.

“I didn’t come to chit-chat.” Reiner rolls his eyes at that and starts the car, quickly driving away from Jean’s house. Probably to ensure that Jean doesn’t chicken out. It’s actually a pretty solid idea. After a couple of minutes in excruciating silence, Reiner sighs.

“My first crush,” he starts, “was on Ymir.” Jean can’t help but laugh at that statement.

“Shit, now that’s one unrequited crush, I bet.”

“Yeah, well, how was I supposed to know she was like, a super lesbian? We were fifteen and she had just gotten accepted to high school. Of course I knew it was futile in a matter of days, but I still liked her for quite a while. She was cocky and funny in a very sordid way. I thought, well, I think she’s very beautiful. Although she would kick me in the balls if she heard me say that.” Jean nods in agreement at that statement.

“Then I really like Historia. She is cute and sugary-sweet, but she has a bite underneath all that fluff and primness. Mostly, I liked her because she was really nice to me, you know? And then I realized she was nice to everyone, really.” Reiner pauses to grab a piece of gum from a pocket of his jacket. He offers a piece to Jean, but he declines.

“Then I sort of liked Annie for a while,” he continues, “She’s a total ice queen, but deep inside she’s a huge dork. It didn’t matter though. Berthold was… well, _is_ , absolutely and devastatingly in love with her. So yeah, I’m not an asshole or anything. I wasn’t about to try anything on her when I knew how he felt. He’s my… best friend.” Reiner pauses again, cracks his knuckles while still holding the steering wheel. After an excruciatingly long minute, he sighs again.

“Then,” he says softly, “I had a thing for you.”

“The fuck?” Jean says before he can manage to formulate a more proper response.

But really, the idea of Reiner Braun having a crush on him or whatever seems as surreal as an artsy French movie. It just doesn’t make sense at all.

“Yeah, don’t get cocky or anything, but you were sort of my sexual awakening.”

“Please don’t ever say that phrase again,” Jean says, feeling completely out of his element. Reiner just laughs.

“It’s a shame you didn’t realize your gayness earlier. I mean, we would have been a terrible couple, but I bet it would have been entertaining.”

“It would have also never happened,” Jean counters a bit too harshly. He thinks about apologizing for a second, but Reiner just shrugs it off.

“So you’re like, not straight?” Jean asks carefully. Reiner speeds up and shrugs again.

“You could say that, yeah.”

“Does anyone know?”

“Ymir knows. And the asshole actually just figured it out by herself. I don’t think a gaydar is a real thing or anything, but fuck if she isn’t good at finding the queers.” Jean nods in silent agreement.

“You don’t have a crush on me anymore though, right?”

“Nah. See, there’s a selfish reason why I want you and Marco to work out,” Reiner says.

“What would that be?”

“Let me find a way to explain it,” Reiner tells him, biting the inside of his cheeks while thinking, “okay, so, you know how every time we have an assembly Mr. Smith shows as one of those incredibly cheesy motivational videos? Like the old woman singing and the dude who got attacked by a shark surfing again, etc.?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, you and Marco are kind of like a motivational video to me,” Reiner elaborates, “if you two end up together, then I feel like there’s a chance for me. The “best friends who secretly love one another” in this school is pretty much off the charts already as it is. You got your Eremikas, your Springles…”

“What the fuck is an Eremika?” Jean asks confused. Reiner sighs.

“I spend too much time with Historia, okay? It’s like a celebrity thing where they fuse the name of two celebrities who are dating to speak about their relationship. Historia does it for people in our school. Eremika is Eren and Mikasa, Springles is Connie and Sasha.”

“What would my couple name with Marco be?” Jean asks, unable to help himself. Reiner seems to consider this for a moment.

“Jeanmarco,” he says easily.

“Wow, that must have required a high level of creativity Reiner. Good on you,” Jean replies sarcastically.

“The point is,” Reiner continues, “I’ve seen it before. I mean, they haven’t started dating or anything but of _course_ they will. It’s a matter of time. But it’s all too, let’s say, too straight for me. If two guys who are best friends get together, then it’s proof that it’s possible. That it can happen to anyone.”

“And why do you even care about that?”

“Well,” Reiner says sheepishly, “remember how I said I didn’t have a crush on you anymore? That’s because I might be in love with Berthold. Just a little bit.”

Jean would like to say he is surprised by yet another case of “best friends who really want to screw one another” but he knows better by now.

“People in our school have a very twisted view of what friendship actually is, apparently,” Jean realizes. Reiner laughs.

“Not all friendships turn into crushes, but you know, when you spend so many hours with someone, and you like them platonically… I don’t know, maybe your mind slips and you consider it for a moment. And the next thing you know you’re crushing hard on them.” Jean sighs because, yeah, that’s pretty much the summary of these past days.

“You were kind of a jerk to us, though,” he says after a moment, “like, teasing us and shit. That wasn’t really cool.” Reiner rolls his eyes and snorts unattractively.

“Fair enough. I won’t do it again. I just got... weird about it. It’s kind of exciting to see someone gay when you are gay. It’s like finding someone else on an island you are stranded on when you thought it was deserted. If that makes any sense. So I took some jabs at you two because I thought you would either confirm your straightness and mark it as a drunken incident. Or actually come out of the closet and join the small queer army of Trost high school,” he says, sounding resigned.

“Marco and I like to think of it as less of an army and more of   gang. We call it the “Not-So Straight Lines”. Cause we are anarchic and not hetero.” Reiner laughs.

“Ymir would love it. She’d probably convince Historia to make us all matching jackets.”

“Is Historia also…”

“Not that I know. But what do I know?” Reiner says with a shrug.

They fall in a comfortable silence after that, which lasts for about five minutes before Reiner puts on his electronic-house music again. A moment later, he grabs his phone and hands it to Jean. When he looks at it, he sees a picture of Marco looking distractedly at a window. Jean reads the caption beneath: ‘Party tonight with the bae’. It takes a moment for him to realize that the picture is from Peter’s Instagram account.

“Why are you showing me this? To piss me off?” he asks bitterly.

“Okay, let me just tease you one last time. Marco instagrammed a pic of that Peter guy calling him a ‘friend’. I followed the tag to Peter’s account. I’m pretty sure the ‘bae’ thing is all about making some point.” Jean suddenly feels a surge of giddiness rise through his body at the thought that Marco tagged the Asshole as ‘friend’.

“It gets better though,” Reiner says, “because some dude commented on that pic saying ‘wow, is this the guy you left me for?’ A comment which Peter eliminated a couple of minutes later.”

“Peter had a boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Reiner says smirking, “and I talked with him. Apparently Peter is sort of a flirt and he broke up with his boyfriend, now ex, after the party on Sunday.” Jean frowns, but can’t seem to understand how that will help him to get with Marco. Reiner waits in silence for a moment before rolling his eyes.

“I have to spell it out for you?”

“Yeah,” Jean admits.

“Once a cheater, always a cheater,” Reiner says easily. Jean raises an eyebrow at that.

“But he didn’t cheat, technically.”

“Flirting with a guy before you broke up with your boyfriend? That’s pretty sucky. And this Peter guy would’ve probably gotten into Marco’s pants if you hadn’t gotten there first.”

“I didn’t get into his pants, technically,” Jean says blushing. Reiner laughs.

“You two were two layers of clothing away from pornographic. My point is that now you have an actual reason for your hatred towards him. Luckily for you, your crush is actually dating an asshole. It’s the perfect rom-com set-up.”

Jean is still pretty unsure of it all. So what if Peter flirted with Marco before he got off his previous relationship? That isn’t bad enough for Marco to break up with him.

“What’s the plan then?”

“Confront him in front of Marco,” Reiner says simply, “and if you want, I actually have Peter’s ex’s number on my phone. Just in case you want to give him a call.”

Jean just stares at Reiner in awe, realizing the guy really did plan everything in advance. And that he’s also sort of shady.

“You’re kind of an evil master mind beneath all that ‘big bro’ exterior you put on, you know?” he comments. Reiner frowns, cracking his knuckles again.

“No way. I’m the wise, cool big brother who gives off relationship advice and old porn magazines. Plus, the ends justify the means and all that crap.”

“The fact that you’re quoting a guy whose name is a synonym for ‘devious’ just furthers my claims.”  Reiner doesn’t seem to agree though because he takes a sharp turn that manages to make Jean’s heart somersault in a way that usually only Marco can manage.

“You want a boyfriend or not?”

“…I do.” Reiner smirks, looking away from the road for a moment.

“Then get ready to wreak havoc and punch some motherfuckers. We’re going down historic.”

*

*

*

Historia’s parties are the sort of parties that one sees on movies and thinks they’re way to overblown. It probably helps that Historia’s dad is a millionaire (even though no one really known what the hell he does for a living) and the mansion she lives in has the biggest pool that Jean has ever seen (the first place is held by an Olympic-sized pool, though). Aside from that, the house itself has more than eight rooms, a kitchen bigger than half of Jean’s house and an underground cinema room, like any proper millionaire crib.

When Historia parties, she parties big.

When Jean arrives alongside Reiner, he is greeted at the door by a girl he has never seen before in his life.

“Are you one of Historia’s friends?” Jean asks. The girl shrugs nonchalantly.

“I don’t know who Historia is, honestly,” she tells him, and then she moves aside to allow them inside. The living room welcomes them, huge and almost furniture-less. Considering the fact that there are at least two hundred drunken teenagers dancing around, Jean thinks that leaving the space empty was a brilliant idea.

“Historia is the closer we’ll ever come to meeting a real life Jay Gatsby, to be honest,” Jean jokes. Reiner laughs, but immediately begins to walk away.

“Whoa, wait the fuck up, where are you going?” Jean asks concerned. Reiner exhales and turns to look at him.

“I told Berthold I’d meet him as soon as I got here. He doesn’t exactly thrive in social situations, you know?”

Swallowing his pride, Jean attempts to puppy-face Reiner into staying with him.

“But I need you…” Reiner shrugs nonchalantly.

“The guy has a stutter and sweats when girls or adults in general talk to him. Trust me, he needs me more than you do,” he says, “besides, your puppy-face isn’t even half as good as Jaeger’s.” Jean glares at him.

“Fine. Go,” he says bitterly. Reiner winks at him.

“Get as drunk as possible and go confess to your beloved. Text me when it all works out… or not. I like drama,” he says before fleetingly kissing Jean on the cheek and walking away. He disappears into the crowd in a matter of seconds.

“That is some bullshit right there,” Jean says to no one in particular. Then he proceeds to do just as Reiner told him to.

Getting drunk is easy for Jean. He’s not a light-weight or anything; on the contrary, he can outdrink most guys on his class. But he enjoys the taste of beer (or at least has come to enjoy it in the recent years) and he’s kind of a sucker for any sort of vodka artificially sweetened to the point the alcohol taste is barely recognizable.

So yeah, Jean is pretty hammered after barely an hour of arriving in the party. It does help when some plucky boy from their rival school dares him to drink ten fireball cinnamon shots faster than him. Jean beats him, as it turns out the guy is all fake bravado and quits after the seventh shot. A bunch of guys and girls cheer for him and Jean almost feel cool for a moment there.

“Shit Kirschstein, I may have some new-found respect for you,” someone whispers next to him and he turns to find Annie Leonhardt in a black leather dress, looking really pretty in her fiercely intimidating way.

“Annie! Where’s your bae?” Jean asks throwing his hands up in the air and coming to the sudden realization he might have gotten a tad too drunk.

“I do not know what a bae is but I guess you’re talking about Armin,” she says vaguely amused.

“Aye, yeah!”

“He’s with Jaeger.”

“Not surprising,” he says rolling his eyes, “Jaeger ain’t that bad though. He’s a cool dude, kinda. A cool dude. Nice bro.”

“Holy shit, you’re super drunk aren’t you?” Annie asks, smirking.

“Hella.” She shakes her head mockingly.

“I guess you won’t be able to try this then,” she says, seemingly producing a bottle out of thin air.

“What’s that?”

“Russian vodka. The best kind of vodka.”

“Seems like strong shit,” Jean says appreciatively, attempting to decipher the Russian letters imprinted upon the black and white tag.

“The strongest,” she says proudly. Jean reaches for the bottle but Annie manages, with her short height, to distance it from his hands.

“Come on Annie! Isn’t sharing the spirit of Communism?” he whines. She giggles then, something bubbly and overtly-sweet that infects Jean and makes him laugh as well.

“I’m not much of a Communist, Kirschstein. Although I might trade a cigarette for a shot,” she tells him, and hastily turns to leave the premises. He follows obediently behind. It’s hard to follow Annie when you’re sober, much more so when you’re drunk. She moves quickly and imperceptibly. She’s short enough to lose herself in a crowd without even trying.

They finally make it to the gardens. Historia’s mansion may be an archetype of minimalistic luxury, ostentatious in its white, black and golden simplicity. But the gardens are what make a party at her house truly epic. Bigger than three football fields, pampered into perfection by careful hands and boasting the biggest rose garden in town. The full effect can only be appreciated well into spring, but there are flowers blooming regardless of the weather and Jean wants to take a moment to appreciate the beauty of it all mixed with the savage brutality of a bunch of drunk, dancing adolescents.

“I dare you to cannonball into the pool, motherfucker,” Annie says, the curse making her accent stronger somehow.

“I’m not Eren. I need something much stronger than alcohol to do stupid shit,” Jean says simply, even though he knows he’s lying the moment he says that. Annie nods and lazily moves her shoulders to the rhythm of the music. Jean finds her attractive in that moment, looking both bored and curious and undeniably beautiful in that form-fitting dress. But then he sees the freckles on her shoulders and his mind fills up with images of dark hair and an ever-present smile. It makes his heart ache.

He must blank out for a moment because when he looks at her face again she has a cigarette hanging from her lips and she’s offering the bottle to him.

“Drink responsibly,” she tells him as she eyes her surroundings with a neutral face.

“Cheers,” he answers, and takes a long shot that burns all the way down his throat and warms his insides. Annie grabs the bottle from him and takes a shot herself before taking a drag from her cigarette.

“Look at that boy, swimming in the pool,” she says, pointing at some random psycho who has unshed his clothes and is now swimming freestyle from one corner of the pool to the other.

“Heh, let’s go talk to him,” Jean says, stumbling a bit on his way. Annie follows.

When they reach a side of the pool, they wait for the boy to make his way towards them and they are both rather impressed by his speed. Before he can swim away, she grabs him by the hair in a not very tender way. The boy, although, barely seems to notice. He does stop to look at them, face bearing a monotone expression that could rival Annie’s.

“What’s your name?” she asks. The boy seems confused for a moment and turns to look for something in the distance before answering.

“Nanase Haruka.” Jean can tell that he’s foreign, and his features are distinctively Japanese. He wonders briefly how the hell does Historia manage to bring tourist dudes from Japan to one of her parties.

“You speak English?” Annie asks. The boy simply shrugs.

“I have a friend who speaks Japanese,” Annie tells him not unkindly and Jean takes a moment to realize that she’s speaking about Mikasa because, holy shit, when did that happen?

“Ackerman Mikasa. She is speaking with my partner,” he says in mildly mangled English while pointing towards the other side of the pool. Jean recognizes Mikasa’s figure from the distance and is surprised to find a tall guy standing next to her and chatting amicably.

“Partner?” Jean asks, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. The guy just nods.

Jean wonders how the hell he went from knowing one queer person to more than five in a week. He considers that perhaps it is all a sign from above to grab his courage and get himself a boyfriend, but then again, maybe he’s just paying more attention to these things.

“You are a very good swimmer. Do you compete?” Annie asks nonchalantly. Haruka simply shrugs again.

“I only swim free,” he says. Annie nods slowly.

“I don’t know what the fuck that means, but good for you,” she says. Haruka nods.

“You do you,” Jean adds before Haruka launches himself to the other side of the pool and starts swimming again.

“Kind of weird, right?” he comments to Annie.  She huffs.

“Considering the people that you know, can you honestly say that boy is particularly weird?”

“ _Touché_.” Annie shakes her head and suddenly looks down. She withdraws her phone from somewhere and Jean is really confused by this point because she’s doesn’t have a purse and there’s no way that that dress has room for pockets. He’s sure that he’ll never understand how girls work. But then again, he doubts he’ll understand how boys work either.

“The bae is here,” she tells him and he laughs at her serious tone. A flitting smile plays on her lips before she turns to look at him.

“You can come with me, but I’d rather you didn’t,” she says and Jean shakes his head.

“I’d rather not third-wheel. Go have fun. Use protection.” Annie snorts a laugh.

“Behave. Don’t ingest more alcohol. Unless someone dares you. Then you better be prepared to make me proud,” she says, something dangerously close to affection glinting in his eyes. It warms Jean inside, the idea that others beside his family (and of course, Marco) actually care for him. He feels sorry that he didn’t take more time to befriend other people of his class and only know can see how cool they are, mere months before the end of school.

He’s getting sick, by this point, of stalling his choices and decisions and never making a move.

“I’ll make Mother Russia proud,” he tells her solemnly. She nods and then turns around to disappear into the throes of people ahead of her.

Jean is about to walk towards Mikasa to, at the very least, having an entertaining conversation until he manages to localize Marco when his phone buzzes. He watches the screen confused, a text message from an unknown number flashing on his screen.

 

**562-756-2233:**

Hey lover-boy. Do us all a favor and stop trying to French (lol get it?) my boy. It’s desperate, it’s not cute and it kinda makes you a trashy friend. He’s not into you, yeah? Go find someone else to play your homoerotic fantasies or whatever ‘kay :)

P.S: You know who this is

 

Jean can feel rage coursing through him like molten lava and for a moment he just wants to find Peter and punch his stupid face, but soon all energy is drained from him. The heat is replaced by coldness and a growing emptiness in his stomach.

The thing is, what he’s doing _is_ selfish. Assuming that he is better for Marco than other boy is arrogant and wanting him regardless is terrible. Because Peter is right in a way. He is a trashy friend and a shitty guy who dragged Marco along for an awful week of being spineless and spiteful. And he doesn’t deserve that and Jean doesn’t deserve him.

Perhaps Peter doesn’t deserve Marco either but that isn’t something for Jean to decide. All the resoluteness that he had gathered throughout the night with Reiner’s advices, Annie’s companionship and expensive whiskey fades away in a moment. He feels heavier and less confident than he has ever felt before. He feels lost too. Jean is disoriented because now that he knows that he can’t confess he doesn’t feel like meeting up with Marco. He doesn’t feel like being social and partying it up. He wants to go home but he has no ride and he’s too proud (or perhaps, too much of a coward) to ask anyone for help.

He notices then that he’s still holding Annie’s vodka in his hand and he takes a deep breath before going back into the house. Attempting to escape the loud bass and the pulsating mass of people around him, he walks towards one of the bars filled with all sorts of drinks.

If he has to bear it through the night, at least he’s going to make sure he isn’t conscious enough for it to hurt.

*

*

*

Jean has been wasted in many moments of his life but he believes he has reached and all new level of drunkenness by the time he finds Eren Jaeger attempting to look inconspicuous while walking around the gardens.

Marching towards him with a resolute stumble, he grabs him by the shoulder and shouts his name, all while attempting not to drop his cigarette.

Eren seems surprised to see him and he stares at him vaguely confused for a moment. He starts to say something but Jean quickly intercedes.

"No man. Wait. I just met a guy who is even more intense than you. I never thought I’d see the day. But this guy is super obsessive with swimming. He's in the pool right now! And the pool is like mega cold!" he tells him, slightly shaking him around. Eren half-smiles.

"I didn't know you smoked," he says. Jean is shocked because he’s been chain-smoking his life away all throughout this last year of high school.

"Man, you don't know shit about me, though. We should talk to each other more. Fuck, we can be best friends!" he tells Eren while putting an arm around his shoulder. It would be cool, to have a best friend you can talk to without feeling like someone is stabbing your heart.

"Okay. Sure,” Eren says distractedly, eyes searching around the gardens, “But what about Marco? Isn't he your best friend?"

Jean closes his eyes at that comment and envisions Marco making out with Peter for a second.

"Fuck Marco," he hisses and shrugs, feeling undeniably guilty.

"Listen man," Eren says, "I really need to find Mikasa. I have to tell her about my feelings. But first I need to get drunk. Like, really drunk. Where's the booze?"

And Jean has to laugh because of course he knows where all the booze is. He’s been chugging it away all night long.

"There’s some booze over there. Some vodka that Annie brought from Russia. Really hard hitting shit. We should so some shots. I'll be your wingman, Jaeger. I'll get you drunk enough," he says delighted. Because now he can concentrate in someone else’s issues and that is always infinite times better than feelings shitty about yours. Grabbing him by the arm, he pulls Eren towards the table besides the pool.

He immediately grabs the sake he had seen minutes earlier and pours some in two red cups.

"It's sake. Get it? Cause Mikasa is Japanese. Like sake. Sake is Japanese too," he tells Eren, who laughs and gulps the thing down with a grimace. Jean drinks what’s on the other cup and turns around to realize that Mikasa is right where she was minutes ago, chatting to the tall guy from before. Excitedly, he turns towards Eren while pointing at her.

"Shit, look, there's your girl!" he says, a bit louder than he intended to. Then he turns to look but at the guy that Mikasa is chatting with who, Jean can now tell from a closer distance, isn’t just tall and incredibly built but also has eyes greener than Jaeger’s.

Jean is strangely glad that Marco is dating Peter and not whoever that guy is.

"Shit, Eren, that dude is ridiculously good looking," he says. Eren looks beyond perturbed.

"Fuck, I know. This isn't good."

"Let's go talk to him. I mean them. You talk to Mikasa and I'll take care of the tall, handsome guy," Jean says distractedly because, seriously, he wouldn’t mind getting a piece of that ass.

"I get it, Jean, he's hot. Don't need to rub it on my face," he says as he makes his way towards Mikasa.

"I hope he rubs it on my face. Just kidding. No homo," Jean says laughing. And although he is kidding, he kind of means it.

Mikasa turns to look at them and gives Eren that smile specially reserved for him as they approach. Jean used to think that Marco had one for like that for him, but he isn’t so sure nowadays.

"Hey,"  Eren mumbles after staring at her for an amount of time that Jean categorizes as disgustingly long. He laughs though, because there is something endearing in the awkward way in which they are attempting to woo each other.

The hot guy who befriended Mikasa laughs as well and he does so in such a lovely way that Jean can’t manage to be pissed at him for laughing at Jaeger like only he is allowed to do.

"Did you just arrive?" Mikasa asks, sounding almost shy.

"Yeah. You look really pretty. I mean, you are pretty. You don't just happen to look pretty tonight. But I thought I should tell you," Eren says in his terrible attempt at seduction.

Looking at him makes Jean feel strangely divided, because as dopey as he looks right now, there is a certain sort of brightness in Eren’s expression that can only possibly come from being purely in love with someone.

"Oh, thank you" Mikasa whispers, showing that as bad as Eren is at being smooth he still manages to get the girl in the end, which sort of pisses off Jean.

"This is Makoto," Mikasa says suddenly, pointing at the hot dude; "the guy in the pool is his friend, Haruka. Makoto is an exchange college student from Tokyo. Haruka likes pools."

"Oh yeah," Jean says nodding, suddenly remembering his conversation with Nanase Haruka, "I spoke to that Haruka guy a bit. Man, totally forgot."

He turns quickly towards Eren.

"Relax I'm 90% sure the other one is gay. So maybe this one is too. I think," Jean whispers into his ear. Eren seems to like what he hears because the tension of his frame eases up a bit.

"Hey Makoto," Eren says, extending his hand for him to shake.

Makoto smiles and Jean is kind of blown away by that smile because that’s literally the second best smile he has seen in his whole life.

Marco’s is number one.

"Hello, you must be Eren," Makoto says, his accent much more prominent than Haruka’s but his pronunciation much better.

"I'm Jean," he intercedes, putting his hand on Makoto's shoulder for some reason.  Maybe it’s the way his eyes squint when he grins and the corners crinkle or the kindness in his voice but Makoto reminds Jean of someone he wishes he didn’t have to remember for the night.

It’s not as good but it’s something and Jean just really wants anything.

"Nice to meet you," Makoto says before someone splashes water onto Jean. He turns to see, Haruka, one hand extended expectantly. Makoto immediately grabs it and helps Haruka out of the pool and the way in which he smiles down at him is even more beautiful than before, because he truly means it, with every ounce of his heart.

Jean feels very sick all of a sudden.

"I must fetch a towel for my partner before he becomes ill. It was nice to meet you Eren," Makoto says, “It was nice to meet you too, Jean."

But he butchers his name, pronounces it with enough care to show a reasonable amount of kindness and respect but absolutely no affection, no intention to make it sound like something remotely important or special.

Jean hates his name at that moment, the fact that no one bothers to enunciate the vowels correctly. And it has always sounded so nice in Marco’s mouth, but now he can’t even have that.

"Nice to meet you too," Eren says oblivious. Makoto bows and he and Haruka move away towards the mansion. Jean wishes he would black out or something.

"Is Jean alright?" Mikasa asks suddenly, directing his question at Eren. As if he couldn’t hear them.

"He's sad because Makoto wouldn't be his friend," Eren says and he hates the carelessness with which he speaks, but he clings onto him regardless, unable to stand up on his own when he feels so dragged down.

"You have no fucking clue, Jaeger. You've got it so easy with her, you have no idea," he mumbles into his neck. Eren seems to be about to ask something, but a figure catches Jean attention and he turns to see Marco a few meters away, concern painted clearly on his face.

"Shit. Fuck. Oh, shit. Marco," he says.

Both Mikasa and Eren turn to look to where he is staring intently. Historia is next to Marco, chatting aimlessly, and clinging to his side is Peter who is smirking without even looking at Jean.

"Shit," Jean says again.

Marco then turns to find Jean staring at him and, excusing himself, he begins to walk towards him. Jean feels like a cornered animal and it saddens him that Marco of all people can make him feel so endangered and uncomfortable.

"Go hide. I'll keep him busy," Mikasa says suddenly. Jean doesn’t even have time to question how the hell she _knows_ , but he doesn’t have time for that.

"Thank you," he says and grabs Eren by the arm, who simply stops Jean on his tracks by pulling the other way.

"Wait, why do I have to go?" he asks mildly annoyed.

"Moral support. He needs it. Now go," Mikasa says.

"But..."

"We'll talk later," she says, looking meaningfully at him. Thankfully, Eren just nods and starts dragging Jean away.

Without looking back, they scamper back into Historia’s house.

Jean knows he should be happy that he got away. He only wishes that he didn’t have to run away as always.

*

*

*

Eren is pissed and Jean can tell by the way he won’t stop fucking moving around the huge balcony. Jean is dizzy enough as it is, and Eren is making it worse. He understands that Jaeger was on his long conquest to finally consummate his relationship with Mikasa or whatever, but Jean’s plans didn’t go as he wished either and he isn’t being a little prick about it.

"I'm sorry," he grumbles for the tenth time.

"What's the deal? Why are you running away from Marco? He's like your best friend, isn't he?"

"Yeah," Jean says, staring intently at his boots, "it's just..."

And how could he possibly explain what this week has been like to someone who barely knows him? He just can’t.

"It's just what?"

Jean sighs and turns to look at the other way. He considers silently how much he can say, before deciding to be as honest as he can be about the situation.

"Marco told me he's gay," he starts and he pauses thinking on how to continue before Jaeger interrupts him.

"Okay. Marco is gay. And you're acting like a douche because you're what? Disgusted? Scared that he'll look at you in the men's room? What the hell, Jean?"

"Why are you being so hard on me? How is this any different from you running away from Mikasa?" Jean says, angry but mostly just sad.

"How is it any similar?" Eren counters.

And in that moment Jean feels like just telling him absolutely everything. About the kiss on Sunday night and the way in which Marco says his name and fucking Peter and his fucking text message. About the awkwardness and the strange feeling of finally putting the pieces together of a puzzle that he’s been building in the dark for years now. He desperately wants to tell Eren how Marco lit up the room so he could solve it once and for all only to realize that he doesn’t like the picture it shows.

But before he can utter a single word, someone opens the door leading to the balcony and joins them.

“Is someone in desperate need to get drunk?" Connie says, looking wretched and holding a six-pack on one hand and Annie’s lethal Russian vodka on the other.

“What happened?” Eren asks him. Jean doesn’t need to ask. He has partied with Connie in several occasions and the only time he has seen him sad was whenever Sasha was making out with other dudes.

 “Where’s Sasha?” he asks, and effectively, Connie grimaces.

“Sash is flirting with some random guy, I don’t know. Don’t want to talk about it really,” he says and proceeds to chug down a beer.

“Oh, I get it,” Eren says suddenly, and Jean doesn’t have the mental capacity to be annoyed by Eren’s extreme levels of ignorance.

“Is it very obvious? That I like her?” Connie asks, sounding tired. Jean snickers.

“Extremely,” he mumbles and quickly takes the vodka bottle for himself before anyone can prevent him from his alcoholic mission of self-destruction. He takes a shot and winces at the awful taste.

“Don’t be a hoarder, Jean,” Eren says and snatches the bottle before taking a swig which he promptly spits it all out.

“You drink like a lady, Jaeger,” Jean says and grabs the bottle to take an even longer shot while attempting not to puke.

“Shut up, Kirschstein, that’s sexist as fuck,” Eren answers, taking himself another drink.

“It’s nice to know I can count on you guys to get completely wasted when my best friend is flirting with other dudes,” Connie says, opening another beer. Jean has never felt more related to someone in his whole life.

“Best friends? Fuck them,” he says.

Connie shakes his head laughing.

“That’s the problem, bro. We can’t.”

*

*

*

“What the fuck are you talking about? Jasmine is clearly the best Disney princess out there!” Connie exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air.

“I swear to God I’m minutes away from punching your stupid face. Jasmine? Seriously? Tiana busted her ass working like three jobs and you’re saying Jasmine is better than her? You seriously have no fucking clue,” Jean retorts angrily. Connie huffs in frustration and Eren laughs mostly because he has no idea what the hell they’re talking about.

They’ve been drinking and telling stupid jokes for an hour now, standing close together in the balcony while laughing like morons. Jean is actually managing to enjoy himself for the first time in this horrid night.

“Does Nala count as a princess?” Eren asks all of a sudden to Jean’s further amusement.

“No, she’s a queen. And like, not human,” he tells him.

“Shit,” Eren says, “but that’s like the only one I know.”

“Holy fuck, Jaeger. Buy yourself a childhood.”

“Trust me, Eren. Jasmine is the best one out there,” Connie remarks much to Jean’s chagrin.

“I don’t know Connie. How can I trust your taste when you claim your favorite Kardashian is Khloe?” Eren inquires. Jean is still shocked that, at least in reality shows, Eren is in touch with modern culture.

“EVERYONE LOVES KHLOE, EREN! WHY ARE YOU BEING SUCH A BITCH ABOUT IT!” Connie shouts.

“Fucking no. Kourtney is clearly the best of the bunch,” he says, shaking his head. Jean laughs at the how stupid it all is and both guys join him. Eren manages to somehow trips over himself without even moving and Jean manages to catch him before his face hits the floor. It all just makes them laugh even harder.

“Dude, you really can’t handle your vodka, can you?” he asks him.

“Did you know that vodka is made out of potato? Isn’t that fucking insane?” Eren answers as Connie helps him stand up.

“I love potatoes,” Connie says before his smile vanishes and he goes back to looking sad.

“Oh, man, I thought of Sasha and made myself sad,” he whispers. And just as he mentions her name, Sasha herself comes out to the balcony with Ymir and Historia trailing behind.

“Oh hey, speaking of the devil,” he murmurs. Connie’s face when he sees her would be hilarious if it didn’t hit so close to home to Jean’s own situation.

“Connie!” Sasha exclaims cheerfully and somehow oblivious to his grief, “You guy’s having a stag party or what?”

Connie answers by simply staring at her, eyes wide and face disoriented. Seconds pass and Jean makes the wise decision to intervene before Connie becomes stuck in that position.

“We’re discussing some important stuff,” Jeans tells her, his brain lazily attempting to formulate an excuse, “could you give as a minute?”

Sasha shrugs and moves further from them, rejoining Historia and Ymir who are already chatting on the other side of the balcony.

“Shit,” Connie whispers as he turns frantically towards them, “man, I feel so weird around her now. Do you think she heard?”

Jean is about to tell him to calm down when Eren grabs him by the shoulders, a fierce look of intensity on his face.

"Connie, a wise man once said to me that if you love someone you should tell them. You should go up to them and fucking tell them," he says.

"Yes. Yes!" Connie responds, as if he had just heard the best plan ever.

"If you love someone. If you love your best friend. You should tell them," Eren continues, nodding along to his words. Jean doesn’t agree.

"But that's easy for you to say, you already know the answer. What if they don't love you? What if kissing them makes everything awkward and awful? What if you fuck it all up?" he argues. And that’s the thing. Eren knows Mikasa loves him. Connie doesn’t know if Sasha likes him that way.

And Jean is already sure that Marco like someone else. What’s the point of trying if there’s no way you’re getting what you want?

"Yes, what if?" Connie says, quickly losing his confidence. Eren glares at Jean.

"If they are really important to you and you are really important to them, then they'll understand. Even if they don't feel the same way, they'll understand," he says.

And it makes sense in a way. Marco wouldn’t be mad at him for being in love with him. But that isn’t going to erase the awkwardness or the heartache will come from being rejected. And he wants to say that, to prevent Connie from having to feel like that. But when he turns around, Connie is already walking towards Sasha, his face a mask of determination.

And, gently grabbing Sasha’s face between his hands, he takes a moment to assess her reaction before moving in to kiss her mouth.

“Holy shit,” Jean whispers and, for a chilling moment, everything freezes. Sasha is still as a rock, her eyes opened in surprise. Connie is still pressed against her, but his frame is starting to tense up in fearful anticipation. Eren watches them, looking especially frightened by the whole situation while Historia and Ymir stand to the side, confused and seemingly stunned.

Just when Jean is sure things can’t get much awkward, Ymir starts cackling.

"God, between these two and the Jaeger-Ackerman dispute I feel like I'm on an episode of fucking Friends or some shit," she says.

And although it sounds like the wrong thing to say, it elicits a reaction from Sasha at the very least, she blinks and pushes Connie away gently, taking hold of his shoulders.

Connie looks like he just saw his world fall apart for a moment.

But then Sasha starts laughing as well.

"Oh my God, Connie. How long did it take us for that to happen, like 5 years? What the hell, bro?" she says. Connie’s face transitions from fear to confusion to absolute joy. He starts laughing too, in synch with Sasha.

"I've wanted to do that since forever, bro, seriously," he says, almost breathlessly. And Sasha nods and smiles like she couldn’t possibly agree more

"Oh Connie, you complete me," she says because, after all, this is Sasha Brauss and even the most romantic of moments needs some old movie reference to be truly perfect.

And because this is Connie Springer, he goes along with it, grabbing her by the waist and pushing her even closer.

"Shut up. You had me at hello," he answers dramatically before proceeding to kiss her earnestly.

Jean can’t believe what he’s seeing

"Oh, fuck off," he murmurs, but not unkindly. Because honestly, that was one of the greatest, happiest things he has seen in his life and he can’t stop himself from smiling as they continue to giggle and place tiny kisses on each other’s faces.

"Did they just reference some movie?" Eren asks because, yeah, this is Eren Jaeger and he is the most obtuse creature on Earth, really.

"Jaeger, your lack of knowledge of pop culture is verging on pitiful," he tells him.

"Take it to the bedroom, suckers," Ymir jeers.

"You can go to my bedroom if you promise not to get too freaky," Historia adds cheerfully. Ymir looks displeased.

"No way, man, I sleep in that bed sometimes," she says.

"Don't say it like that! You're making it sound weird," Historia squeaks alarmed, her face turning bright pink all of a sudden.

"Oh, you know you love me babe," Ymir adds and winks at her.

"We will take the offer most thankfully, bro," Connie says, giving her a tiny vow.

Sasha thanks her too and they run into the house together, laughing all the way.

"That was nice," Mikasa Ackerman says suddenly, appearing out of nowhere and nearly giving both Eren and Jean a heart-attack.

"Yeah, wow," Eren says fumbling and once again Jean wonders how the hell he even managed to score in his life because he can barely look at Mikasa in the eyes.

“And that’s my cue to walk away,” he says. Because it is. Because Mikasa is looking at Eren in the same way he knows he looks at Marco, like he’s something undoubtedly special.

And Jean, ever the pessimist, sort of thinks that maybe things between them won’t work out as impossible as that seems. That falling in love with your best friend is an awful, awful idea. But he chooses to be slightly naïve, slightly romantic and give them their moment. As much as he craves company in that moment, he has to give them the chance to try.

At the very least, just let them try.

He strides into the mansion before Eren has a chance to chicken out and proceeds to walk towards anywhere, no clear destination in his mind. Really, all he wants is to go back home.

“Hey, Pony boy, wait up,” Ymir says, easily catching up with him. Jean turns to look at her and he stumbles a bit.

“What’s up?” Jean asks, feeling suddenly much dizzier than he did moments before.

“You’re fucking wasted. You want me to drive you home?” she asks, sounding weirdly concerned for once. Jean considers this for a moment, before Historia intervenes.

“You can also take a nap in my dad’s room. He’s away for the week,” she says. Jean shakes his head.

“I’ll take a cab, it’s fine, thanks,” Jean says and continues to walk away. Ymir huffs.

“Do you even have cash, fucking dimwit?” she asks him. Jean stops in his tracks and pats his pants’ pockets.

“Nope,” he admits.

“I’d lend you money, but I honestly think it’s better if someone drives you,” Historia says gently.

“Reiner brought me,” Jean tells them, even though he isn’t sure just why he says that.

“Awesome. I love giving away my responsibilities to other people. Reiner it is,” Ymir says, fiddling with her phone for a moment. Jean is slightly freaked out by the fact that Ymir considers him a responsibility, which in her strange way of expressing herself it probably means that she cares for him.

“Okay,” he says, because he doesn’t know what else to say and Historia grabs his hand and guides him to a chair.

“Blondie says he’s in the gardens. He wants to know if you can make it there on your own,” Ymir informs them, checking her cellphone. Historia shakes her head.

“We’ll go with you, Jean. Don’t worry,” she says sweetly. But Jean isn’t worried really. He just feels really tired and sad. He wants to sleep for a whole day and stay in bed for three more.

“Okay,” he says again, and holds on to Historia’s hand as they make their way downstairs.

In retrospective, Jean shouldn’t have drunk so much. Because he is starting to get dizzier by the minute and nausea is replacing the pleasant buzz that alcohol usually brings along. Historia is attempting to guide him through the gardens which are filled with people dancing around without a care. She’s really trying her best, but she’s tiny and soon enough they get separated when they get caught inside a mosh pit in the making.

Jean manages to escape the commotion only to crush into someone.

“Honestly, Juan, could you possibly get any worse?”

And as drunk as he is, Jean can recognize that voice because it is the equivalent of getting punched in the balls and it grates on his nerves.

“Oh fuck off,” he mumbles and attempts to walk away, but Peter grabs him by the shoulder and pulls him back. Jean isn’t remotely strong or stable enough at the moment to shake him off, so he has no other option than to face him.

He expects an annoying little smirk but when he turns he finds Peter frowning at him with his stupid face and Jean feels the urge to punch him intensify.

“What the hell do _you_ want?” Jean asks, trying his best not to slur the words. Peter does smile then, but it’s a tense smile.

“I mean, I’d love for you to go fuck yourself and stay away from my boyfriend, but that seems impossible somehow,” Peter says, and he shoves him away only to pull him back again by the arm. Jean’s world destabilizes a bit.

“He’s not your boyfriend,” he counters, “you’re just dating.” Peter rolls his eyes at that and Jean is honestly baffled as to what Marco sees in him. He has his hair gelled back like some 50’s greaser and in his opinion he looks uncannily like a meerkat when he grins.

“Still hell of a lot more important than whatever fucked up relationship you have with him.”

“He’s my best friend you fucking douchebag,” Jean says. And it’s true because, beyond whatever they’ve been through, Marco is still the only person he feels like he can trust completely. But Peter just scoffs at the comment.

“Right. And the fact that you apparently can’t keep himself from kissing him? Should we take that into account?” Jean just stares at him confused.

“Marco told you?”

“We’re _dating_ , remember? See, he trusts me too,” Peter tells him, raising an eyebrow petulantly.

“Oh, and did he tell you I’m a better kisser than you are too?” he asks, cocking his head to the side. That seems to hit a chord with Peter, because his smirk turns into a frown.

“Fuck off. We haven’t even kissed, so I know that’s a lie.”

Jean is so taken aback by that comment that he physically moves away from him before recovering his footing.

“You haven’t?” he asks. Peter blushes then and his face becomes a sneer.

“What, your _best_ friend won’t even tell you that?”

“Maybe he doesn’t think you’re worth my time,” he answers back easily and rejoices while watching Peter squirm.

“You’re a fucking moron.”

“Well, you’re tacky and I hate you,” Jean tells him. And he is about to bask in the glorious news that Marco hasn’t kissed Peter (and maybe there’s still hope, if Marco kisses Jean but not him…) when Peter knees him on the stomach and pushes him down. Jean falls to the ground, feeling the air leave his lungs for a second. He attempts to stand up and manages to get on his knees when Marco shows up, evaporating from seemingly nowhere.

“What happened? Jean, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Peter intercedes, seemingly pissed off. Jean doesn’t answer because he is busy trying not to throw up.

“Jean, why have you been avoiding me?” Marco says, ignoring Peter much to his distaste, “Can we just… Peter can you give us a minute?”

“Why should I?” he says, shrugging, “Like, is it a life or death situation here? I don’t think so. Talk another time.”

Marco doesn’t appreciate this comment and he frowns lightly before sighing. He extends a hand towards Jean and he grabs it thankfully. The fact that Marco chose him over Peter warms him up more than Annie’s terrible vodka could ever manage and on his way up his head is swimming lethargically but insanely focused, searching for the right words to say right now.

He doesn’t feel tongue-tied and he is sure that, at this moment, he could easily say ‘I love you’ and mean it and make Marco understand in which way he means it. He just knows that if he opens his mouth he’ll have the right words for once.

But then Marco let’s go of his hand and turns towards Peter, looking incredibly tired.

“I guess it can wait till tomorrow,” he says and Jean’s heart clenches painfully.

Peter smirks as if he has just seen his worst enemy had his heart removes out of his chest, which isn’t too far from the truth.

“Great,” he says, brushing Marco’s lower back with his hand and moving closer so that their shoulders are touching.

“You should go home, Jean. You don’t look too good,” Marco adds, giving him one last sad look.

This comment, added to everything else, is what makes Jean loose it. Because he is sick of being treated like an idiot and feeling like an idiot. He’s just really, really tired of it all.

“I’m not a fucking baby, Marco. I can take care of myself,” he shouts. Marco is surprised by the outburst and he backs away a few steps. Peter’s eyes widen and he smiles for a second before he scowls.

“Honestly, fuck off. You really are a terrible friend, you know?” he says, pushing Jean back.

And Jean does know that by now, but he will not tolerate being shoved away by someone who barely knows him. So he pushes Peter back, much harder. Peter stumbles back and lands on his ass, which satisfies Jean immensely. He is about to turn back and leave, find a place to lie down until Reiner comes fetch him, when Marco grabs him by his t-shirt and pulls him against him.

“What is the matter with you this week?” he says, eyebrows raised as if both worried and angry. Jean twists away, trying to shove him off but his grip is insistent.

“Just talk to me already!”

“I’m in love with you,” is what Jean means to say. It’s on the tip of his tongue, playing in his mouth with the lingering taste of gin and whipped cream vodka. But the words taste bitter and so he spits out and entirely different thing.

“Aren’t you tired of being like this? So attached to me?” he half-whispers, “Like, seriously, it’s our last year of high school and what do you have left? A bunch of classmates who think you’re nice but don’t really know you. Teachers who think you’re well behaved. A _shitty_ best friend. And a boyfriend you haven’t even kissed. How sad is that Marco? And you know why you only have that? Because instead of going around and hanging out with others, you stay stuck to me. Look at yourself now. Are you happy with the choices you’ve made? I know I’m not.”

It’s mostly a drunk monologue, almost nonsensical and filled with twisted words and unbaked thoughts but it seems to hit Marco right where it hurts.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks, hurt and disappointed and the right amount of angry.

“Get out of my life already,” Jean shouts. And he means it more like a sort of plea.

Stop being my friend. Stop treating me like this. Stop caring for me.

Get out of my life before I ruin yours.

But Marco’s face twists and his fist hits Jean on his cheekbone.

It’s a good punch, Jean knows, because he can feel the way his whole face heats up and the pain filters through his bones in a constant, throbbing ache. Without the balance that his sobriety provided, he has no problem falling to the floor and hitting his left shoulder against a terracotta flowerpot which cracks with his weight.

He feels oddly drowsy for a moment and probably passes out for a second because he blinks and the next thing he knows Marco is kneeling next to him, panic clear in his face.

“Shit. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t even… God, Jean I’m so fucking sorry I swear, holy shit,” he mumbles and Jean almost laughs because Marco never curses and it’s always funny to hear him say a blasphemy or two. But he just half-moans in pain and then something big approaches him and his whole world is turned upside down.

Someone has lifted him up.

“Sasha and Connie offered to take him home,” someone says and Jean recognizes the warm big-brother tone of Reiner’s voice.

“Yeah, yes. I… I’ll go with you. Shit,” Marco says nervously but Reiner shakes his head and Jean shakes along with him.

“I _really_ think it’d be for the best if you didn’t do that,” he says sternly but not unkindly. Marco looks away but nods.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again and Jean wants to hug him and tell him he shouldn’t be sorry because it’s not like he didn’t deserve but he doesn’t really get to say that because his vision becomes blurry and as he hears the incessant screams of Sasha and Connie’s chants, he blacks out.

*

*

*

He wakes up, at some point, and he sees Sasha’s big, brown eyes mere inches away from him.

“IT’S OKAY! HE WOKE UP! LET’S GET OUT OF HERE,” she shouts, turning towards someone else.

“But Sash…” Connie argues.

“No buts. Only butts. If his mum finds out he gets grounded and he doesn’t come to the sleepover. You really want that to happen?”

Connie sighs.

“You’re right, bro. Priorities.”

“Word,” Sasha answers. Jean just groans in response.

 


	7. Feelings bloom like favorite flowers (Saturday)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being much longer than I thought it would be....

“You know I don't want to be clever

To be brilliant or superior

True like ice, true like fire

Now I know that a breeze can blow me away

Now I know there's much more dignity

In defeat than in the brightest victory

I'm losing my balance on the tight rope

Tell me please, tell me please, tell me please...

If I ever feel better

Remind me to spend some good time with you

You can give me your number

When it's all over I'll let you know”

-If I Ever Feel Better by Phoenix

 

The pain is worst when Jean wakes up the next morning, and it's accompanied by a hangover. Potentially the worst hangover in the history of ever.

His cheekbone is throbbing and he just knows that he's going to have a bruise the size of a small country.

"Wakey, wakey," someone whispers into his ear and Jean's immediate reaction is to throw himself of the bed, because apparently he isn't already in enough pain. He turns around to find Connie lying on the bed, smiling down at him like a creepy fuck.

"What the fuck," Jean says, cringing at the sound of his own hoarse voice.

"That was a great night babe," Connie says with a wink and Jean almost has a mental breakdown wondering just what the hell happened last night. But then Sasha throws herself on the bed on top of Connie and Jean is instantly reminded of their kiss at the party.

And with that comes the memory of Marco punching him as well.

"How did I end up here?" Jean asks. And what is _here_ anyway?

"You got wasted and then Marco punched you and then you passed out and then we drove you to the hospital but then you woke up on our way there and so we brought you to Connie's house because we didn't want your mother to murder you," Sasha answers rapidly.

"It was pretty intense," Connie adds while handing him and aspirin. Jean groans and takes the aspirin dry.

"I want to die," he says and Sasha just nods sympathetically.

"You look like shit. No offence, bro," she says. Jean doesn't have the energy to even consider being offended.

"By the way, your phone's been buzzing like crazy since last night, bro," Connie says. Sasha withdraws said phone from a pocket of her hoodie. Jean looks at it, half-closing his eyes at the light coming from the screen, and sighs. He has like 55 messages from Marco, 9 from Reiner and, surprisingly enough, 2 from Annie.

The most terrifying thing, though, are the 8 missed calls from his mother.

"Don't worry about those. I spoke to your mum and told her you were asleep," Connie says.

"I spoke to your mum and she said I was a cutie," Sasha adds.

"Yeah, bro she didn't even ask me to wake you up! She said she'd talk to you later, at home."

"Oh God she's going to murder me..." Jean whispers.

"Hey, come on. We'll go with you, bro," Connie says, patting him on the back. Sasha flings herself off the bed on top of Jean, who grunts and wonders where else he could possibly get a new bruise.

"Man, totally! They can't punish you if you are surrounded by friends. Mum's have to keep the act when there's other people around," Sasha says, hugging Jean.

"She'll just wait until you're gone," Jean says miserably. Then Connie plops on top of Sasha, further damaging Jean's battered body.

"We won't leave until it's too late to back down! You're coming to our sleepover, bro. Even if you must come as a corpse!" He shouts. Jean groans underneath all the weight on top of him.

"Yeah, let's try to get me alive there."

"Agreed," Sasha proclaims and then she throws Connie off her by rolling off Jean, who is now finally able to breathe. He watches Connie laugh, entangled with Sasha and sighs.

"I don't know if I should go to your sleepover. I don't really want to see Marco right now," he says weakly. Sasha's laughter vanishes at that comment and she looks at Jean mildly concerned before shaking her head effusively.

"Dude, look. I don't know what's going on between you two but I don't think ignoring each other till you part ways and leave to different colleges will be the best way to solve your issues," she says, looking intently at him.

"We're actually thinking about going to the same college," Jean says mildly and Sasha sighs and rolls her eyes in that way that girl's tend to do when dudes do something terribly stupid, which always manages to make him nervous somehow.

"You two are best friends. Don't mess that up."

"Unless you want to mess them up, then by all means mess it up, bro," Connie says and smacks Sasha on the butt to emphasize his point. They both laugh and the comment but Jean doesn't find it that comical.

"I'll go, yeah," he says finally, "but only because I don't think he'll go."

"Oh, yeah, that's the spirit," Sasha answers sarcastically, but she seems satisfied with the response because she shrugs Connie off and stands up.

"Now let’s have breakfast. I can't process my thoughts when I'm this hungry. Feed me, Seymour," she says and Connie stretches his arms before getting up as well.

"You already had breakfast," he tells her, "and it's almost midday anyway." Sasha groans in protest, a noise that sounds almost like something that only Chewbacca could emit.

And despite it all, Jean can't help but laugh at that.

"God, Connie, you're like 50% hobbit, I mean, what about second breakfast?" he interjects. Sasha lights up immediately and Connie grins.

"Finally, a bro who not only gets our references but makes Lord of the Rings references. You were right Sash, he is one of us," he says and they both begin chanting 'One of us,' which Jean finds both hilarious and terrifying.

"Fine, fine, I get it," he says, "now let's get going. Every second that passes just serves to make my mum angrier." Sasha and Connie nod at each other and each grabbing on of his arms, they help him up. Jean feels a bit dizzy and his throat is still parched so badly it aches, but it's nice to know you have friends who'll help you get up even in your worst hangovers.

"First though," Sasha says, "ice for the bruises and some water for the hangover."

"And maybe answers those text messages, bro," Connie tells him. Jean merely shakes his head.

"Later," he answers vaguely, which make Connie frown for a second before he shrugs.

"Whatever. It's your call, bro," he says, but he seems vaguely disappointed which Jean can't help but find strange. They walk towards Connie's kitchen where his mum is cooking lunch. Jean says hi, feeling hyper-aware of the bruise on his face. Connie's mum seems oddly used to these sorts of things because she just sighs and gently presses a bag of ice to Jean's face.

This is the second time someone presses and ice bag to a part of his body, which causes a fair amount of concern in him.

Sasha must be practically considered part of the family by this point because she simply kisses Connie's mum on the cheek and moves over to pour herself a glass of orange juice from the fridge.

"Good morning mum," Connie says, grabbing a glass or juice for himself and a glass of water for Jean.

"Good morning, baby. Did you have fun last night? Your friend here seems to have had a bad night, huh? How are you feeling sweetheart?" Jean shakes his head.

"I've done better honestly," he answers sheepishly.

"The party was fucking awesome though," Connie tells his mum, who shakes her head and reminds him sternly of the 'appropriate language used in the house'. Jean has flashbacks of his own mum.

"Oh, Bea, we forgot to tell you something," Sasha exclaims suddenly, half-choking on a chocolate cookie she has somehow acquired.

"What?" Connie asks confused. Sasha rolls her eyes at that.

"That we're dating now, bro." Comprehension dawns on his face as he nods effusively.

Connie's mum (Bea, apparently) doesn't seem to register the comment but after a while she simply says 'That's nice, sweetheart,' and continues to mix whatever's in the pot on the stove.

"She seems oddly uninterested," Jean states. Connie laughs.

"Yeah, our parent think we've been dating for like years now. We used to correct them but we got tired."

"Plus," Sasha adds, "for some reason they are cool with us sleeping in each other's houses since we're such an established couple and possibly know better by now."

"I fail to see how your parents could somehow come to the conclusion that it's fine to keep you two, _especially_ you two, together at night. But whatever," Jean says honestly. Sasha just nods wistfully.

"Honestly, I think they probably realized that if we want to stay together, we're gonna stay together, bro," Connie says.

"And this way there are less risks of something being set on fire or someone breaking their arm. _Again_ ," Sasha quips, staring pointedly at Connie who shrugs.

"Get over that, bro. It was like a month ago."

"I'm not even gonna ask," Jean tells them tiredly and both Connie and Sasha wink at him, or at least Sasha winks and Connie blinks.

Three glasses of water later and with the plastic bag with ice pressed to his face, Jean thanks Connie's mum and get inside Sasha's truck which is parked outside.

"I go in the back, right?"

"I can go if you don't want to, bro," Connie says but Jean shakes his head.

"Nah. I need some fresh air."

Sasha gets in the truck and immediately turns on the radio (and who even does that anymore?). It's an 'oldie but golden' sort of radio station and it plays pop and disco eighties music which is admittedly catchy. Sasha rolls the windows down to make sure that Jean can hear her sings along to the music, even if he's in the back. Connie makes a dead-on Rick Astley impression, dance moves and all, which has them all in tears. After a bunch of songs pass, Jean realizes that they are driving around aimlessly, which is something he has only ever done with Marco, but he enjoys it nonetheless. He has always loved the feeling of driving around with the music playing, spending that time with Marco laughing and singing in the day and being silent but still present and involved by night as they watched the streetlights illuminating houses and the neon signs of diners and shops.

He has always felt a bit disappointed when they got to their destination, for some reason.

Sasha asks him where he wants to have breakfast after a while and she begrudgingly accepts Jean's request of Starbucks (she wanted McDonald's). They order their coffees and snacks and then they get back in the car, still idly driving around. At some point Jean has a strange surge of confidence and he stands up in the back of the pick-up truck to dance along to Toto. He knows he looks stupid, but Sasha and Connie have never been bothered by that so he doesn't feel like he needs to bother either.

Plus, it's worth it. Sasha laughs so hard that she almost swerves out of the road and makes Jean fall off.

All in all, he feels pretty giddy and nice when he reaches his house, although the sight of his mother watering the plants in the garden does put a damper on his mood. Especially when she turns to look at him and she sees the bruises.

"Jean!" He sighs, climbing off the truck. Sasha and Connie get out as well, walking solemnly behind him.

"Jean! _Ton visage_ ," his mum exclaims, hastily letting go of the water hose to take a better look. She touches his face, turning in from side to side, and somehow her grip is both strong and tender.

"Mrs. Kirschstein?" Sasha says cautiously, taking step towards her. His mum turns to acknowledge her.

"You must be Sasha. You called me last night. Why couldn't Jean answer the phone?" Sasha opens her mouth and quickly turns to Connie who simply smiles.

"We are so sorry that we didn't properly explain what happened last night," he says, voice crisp and confident, "Jean couldn't answer the phone because my dad, he's a nurse by the way, gave him some pain relievers. Nothing too strong, but it made Jean feel sleepy. We didn’t want to wake him up, you see."

His mum looks suspiciously at Jean for a moment, before turning back towards Connie.

"But why these bruises?" She asks, "Did he get into a fight?"

"I understand your concern," he continues, "but Jean did nothing wrong. You see, these punks from a rival school showed up to Historia's party last night, uninvited of course, and begun causing trouble. One started bothering Sasha here and even pushed her because she didn't want to talk to him."

Jean is just staring mesmerized at Connie because even he is starting to believe this story, and he nods along to it. He can see the suspicion in his mum's eyes disappearing with every remark that Connie makes. Sasha stays quietly by his side, simply emphasizing on what a bunch of creeps and brute these 'rival school punks' were.

"Anyway, Jean didn't like what he saw and he respectfully asked this guy to step down and stop bothering Sasha. Of course, he didn't listen. And he got angry at Jean. He pushed him away and continued with his unwanted advances towards Sasha."

"Jean only pushed this guy back because he grabbed my arm and wouldn't let go," Sasha says quietly, sounding innocent and shy (two things she decidedly isn't).

"The guy got violent and punched Jean repeatedly, so Jean fought back until the rest of the guys managed to stop them and kick the idiot and his friends out," Connie finishes, "I am terribly sorry we made your worry. Sasha just wanted to make sure Jean would be alright so we took him to my house and, well, that's when he took the pain relievers. He actually asked as to call you, to make sure you knew he was fine." Sasha apologizes too, and Jean sees his mother's eyes immediately soften when she looks at her. He knows then that he is in the safe.

"I'm glad you called. I cannot believe what that boy did to your face, _mon petit choi_ ," she says, hugging Jean or really squeezing him against her body.

"Okay mum, that's... Okay you can let go now," he says and turns to look at Connie and Sasha who are making silly gestures behind his mother's back.

"I mean, you're still grounded, you know that, right?" His mother whispers into his ear before letting go of him and placing a kiss on his forehead. Of course it wouldn't be that easy, Jean realizes.

"Give me this weekend and ground me for a month," he says quietly. His mum looks him over for a second, arches an eyebrow in suspicion but finally nods.

"Fine. _On se parle plus tard_ ," she says, raising her voice again.

"Okay."

"Now," she continues, turning towards Connie and Sasha, "you too should come inside for a bit. I just baked some cookies."

And before she can say anything else, Connie and Sasha scramble towards the house. His mum laughs and ruffles his hair.

"It's nice to see you bring new friends," she says, "but Marco hasn't come by in a while. _Il me manques_."

"He's been busy," Jean shrugs nonchalantly and he follows Connie and Sasha inside the house.

He can't help it but think of how accurate his mother's words are, though. _Il me manques_ , because Jean doesn't miss Marco.

Marco is missing from him.

*

*

*

"So anyway, how was I supposed to know that adding _'la'_ in front of _'madame'_ changes the meaning?" Connie whines sitting on the floor with his back against Jean's bed.

"I can't believe you called your French teacher a whorehouse owner," Jean says in astonishment while Sasha, who has her head on Connie's lap and her legs on Jean's, laughs raucously.

"How was I supposed to know, bro!? HOW!?"

"You've been doing French for 3 years now, man."

"Oh, I'm sorry, man. I bet you two assholes are Spanish experts."

" _Mucho mejor que tú_ ," Sasha replies easily.

"Wait, did she just insult me in French?"

" _Ay, ay, ay, pobre_ Connie," Jean says shaking his head.

"You guys are the worst."

"Hey," Sasha chirps up, "if it makes you feel better I forgot that the words _'año'_ had that 'n' thing with the wavy shit on top and every time I intended to write 'I am 15 years old,' I was actually writing 'I have 15 anuses'."

Both Connie and Jean laugh at that comment. Jean stomach actually hurts from laughing so much, more than it hurts after doing pushups. Connie's face is visibly red and Sasha is just happily gobbling another bowl of Ben & Jerry's while complaining about the ache on her jaw from smiling so much.

Jean hasn't had this much fun since Marco and him accidentally rented a Korean movie without subtitles and decided to make them up themselves, to ludicrously ridiculous and hilarious results.

He likes partying and all but sitting with friends while aimlessly chatting is somehow more entertaining.

"I don't understand how they expect us to be speaking a second language, I can barely manage with English, bro," Connie states. Sasha giggles and shakes her head.

"Jean speaks three. I don't hear him complaining."

"Oh, but that's because I'm better than all of you," Jean jests and receives a kick to his thigh for his efforts.

"Shut up, Kirschstein. God, even your last name is hard to pronounce," Sasha says giddily.

"Bro, try writing it. I honestly just have him as Jean K. on my phone.

"Why is the K necessary? What other Jeans do you know Connie?" Jean asks him.

"It's just in case I meet another one," he answers sheepishly.

"Aye, talking about phones, you haven't looked at yours. Not even once," Sasha chastises him and Jean merely grunts. He receives yet another kick.

"Fine, fuck, I'll answer my messages now."

"Read them out loud, though," Sasha suggests.

"Maybe." Jean reaches for his iPhone and takes a deep breath. He picks the easiest one. Reiner wondering whether he's okay.

"Reiner wants to know if I'm fine," Jean says out loud.

"Okay, record a voice note," Sasha tells him, and she waits for Jean's nod before continuing, "Heeeeeey, Reiner-boy. Your homie Jean K. is doing fine but if you wish to see him again you'll have to pay a hefty sum."

"One million dollars," Connie says in his best Dr. Evil impression.

"Yeah, that or three bags of Sour Patch Kids. Your choice, _amigo_."

After a while, Reiner answers the voice note with 'you can keep him' which Jean finds rather rude, because he is definitely worth more than three Sour Patch Kids bags. Like, he's at least worth 100 of those, maybe.

Then he answers Annie, who also wonder on his whereabouts and surprisingly invites Jean to a foreign film event next week with her and Armin.

"She clearly wants a threesome," Sasha comments and Jean laughs at the very thought of that. He tells her he's fine but grounded and thus unable to go to said festival. The reply comes immediately and she writes that 'that is not a problem if you don't want it to be a problem' which coming from her sounds vaguely threatening but is probably well intended. He tells her he'll try to convince his mum and Annie texts him but a smiley emoji, and then a message stating that it was Armin and not her who sent it.

"And now Marco. Oooh shit, son," Connie says, rather unhelpfully.

"Remember Annie advice, young grasshopper. It's not a problem if you don't want it to be a problem."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jean asks nervously. Sasha shrugs.

Taking one shaky breath, he opens Marco's messages.

And they are many. It starts with the old ones, the ones he ignored the day before, asking him whether he's going to the party. Whether he's angry at him. He asks Jean if he has done something wrong.

After that there's at least 20 'I'm sorry' messages, each worded in a slightly different way, but all overwhelmingly heartfelt. The last messages say:

 

**Marco Polo:**

I feel like we are falling apart

 

**Marco Polo** :

I mean like our friendship is falling apart

 

**Marco Polo:**

Maybe I'm falling apart too

 

**Marco Polo:**

Maybe you just don't want me in your life anymore

 

Jean doesn't mention these last messages to Connie and Sasha because they are too raw and personal to be shared with them. They are far too painful to read and simply not sharable.

"Tell him you are sorry. Like, I don't know what you did wrong but I don't think Marco would hit you for no valid reason," Sasha says.

"Cause he's a freaking saint," Jean murmurs, echoing what everyone always says. But Connie shakes his head.

"No, man. Because he adores you. There's no way he would hurt you unless you would have really hurt him," he says, and Jean is surprised to learn that his guilt has no limit and can seemingly grow to insurmountable sizes.

"Yeah, fuck, you are right. What do I even say to him?"

"Apologize, like I said. Then ask him to talk. In person," Sasha states firmly.

"Maybe I should send Connie as an envoy. He clearly has mad speaking and negotiating skills," Jean jokes miserably.

"Oh, Connie's good at that cause he always had to get us out of trouble when we did stupid shit. I kind of shut down when I get caught and that's when Connie steps up to save the day. Cause he's my hero. My babe. My guy. My future husband," Sasha says while cuddling further against Connie's body who looks like he's about to explode from embarrassment.

"Thanks, Sash," he says, tracing the tip of her nose with his index finger. She smiles up at him and Jean is getting some 'you are about to become a third-wheel' vibes when Sasha's head shot up.

"Text Marco bitch! Don't think we're forgetting about that," she shouts, freaking Jean out but accomplishing her goal because he immediately texts Marco a long, meaningful apology and asks him whether they can talk. Minutes pass and he doesn't text back.

"Bro is probably busy," Connie tells him and Jean nods half-heartedly.

"Have a cookie," Sasha offers mildly, withdrawing a bag of cookies from the pocket of her jacket.

"Depends, for how long have you been keeping them in there?" Sasha rolls her eyes.

"They are Oreos, Jean. It doesn't matter." Jean can agree with that logic and accepts the offered cookies.

"Now, I don't want to be a dick or anything, but we should get going," Connie says, looking at his watch, "we need to get everything ready for tonight." Jean groans.

"What about being my emotional support?"

"We will be supporting you from afar. Supporting you in spirit," Sasha tells him.

"Ghost support," Connie chimes in.

"Spooky."

Jean rolls his eyes but still thanks them for spending the afternoon with him.

"If anything happens with Marco, text me," Sasha tells him before kissing his cheek and turning to go.

"Text me too, bro," he says before he too kisses Jean on the cheek.

"You know, actually kissing someone on the cheek in France sometimes means that you have a crush on them," Jean jokes and Connie winks (attempts to wink, really) at him.

"Don't tell Sasha, bro."

"I heard that, slut," Sasha tells him and then they both leave, laughing and hugging and making Jean feel lonely as hell.

When he gets back in the house, his mum is sitting on the sofa, idly watching TV.

"I like your friends," she tells him.

"They are cool," he says, attempting to avoid this conversation.

"Is Sasha single?"

That comments make something twist uncomfortably inside Jean's guts.

"No, she's dating Connie."

" _Ah, oui. C'est bien ce que je pensais_. They look very comfortable together."

"Yeah..."

"She's very pretty isn't she?" Jean falters for a moment before answering.

"Yeah, she is," he tells her before racing upstairs to avoid further interrogation. He doesn't wish to delve into the 'do you have a girlfriend' territory. He doesn't wish to dwell in the fact that he'll have to come out at some point. Right now, he just needs to focus on getting the guy at the end of the movie. Fireworks and romance, not the consequences after.

He takes a nap for a couple of hours and then a long, much-needed shower. When he checks himself in the mirror he is shocked by how bad his bruises look now. They've somehow gotten bigger and the faded purple-pink has become an amalgamation of yellows, greens and violets. It looks terrible. He wishes he had make-up to cover it or something like that and even considers asking his mum for foundation but discards the idea because the only people who are going to see it are his friends. And Jaeger. Who maybe is also a friend. He's keeping him in probation.

After asking his dad to borrow the car (he tells him that he is supposed to be grounded but gives in at the last moment) he grabs his phone to check if Marco has answered. And he almost has a heart-attack when he realizes that he has. He becomes disappointed when he reads:

 

**Marco Polo:**

I don't know if I'm going tonight

 

Jean thinks of asking why but that seems stupid. He promptly ignores the message for the time being because he'll be late if he doesn't leave now.

He gets in the car and drives towards Connie's house. His hand hovers over his iPhone during the whole ride as he debates whether he should answer Marco's text or not. The whole thing keeps him so distracted that he doesn't realize that he's been driving without music and he's halfway to Connie's. And he never drives without music. Jean sighs in mild frustration and hits shuffle, but the music can't keep him from over analyzing his situation with Marco.

He stops at a red light and grabs his phone, only to drop it again and then grab it again. He types all sorts of responses which get promptly deleted.

'Why aren't you coming?'

'Are you angry at me?'

'Do you hate me?'

He erases every single sentence, and finally settles with 'Okay, tell me if you change your mind,' and sending only to regret that choice of words half a second later.

All the joy that Jean felt a few hours ago has been drained and sent away along with that stupid text.

A couple of cars are parked outside Connie's house when he gets there and he recognizes one as Mikasa's.

He debates whether he should send Connie a message or just ring the bell and goes for the latter because he clearly lacks texting skills (and Marco hasn't texted back yet even though the message he sent is marked as read).

Connie opens the door and his 'hello' is cut short when he sees Jean's face.

"Holy shit, dude. And here I thought those bruises were as bad as it got. It's like they evolved. Like watching Pangaea break into the continents but backwards, cause everything is larger now. Seriously bro," Connie tells him.

"God, man, is it really that fucking bad?" Jean asks concerned. Connie pauses for a second.

"... No?" Jean sighs.

"Alright, it's awful. Let me in now, before I regret coming," he grumbles, and Connie steps aside. They walk to the living room where Annie, Armin, Mikasa, Eren and Sasha are chatting and laughing. Sasha perks up when she sees him but flinches at the sight of his bruise.

Jean feels uncomfortable. Everyone becomes silent suddenly, as if they were speaking of something secret. Perhaps something that involved him. Eren is staring right at him, seemingly disappointed at him.

Jean wonders if everyone in that room thinks he's a douchebag. Because Marco wouldn't hit someone unless that someone did something terrible, right?

"Damn, Jean," Sasha says softly. Jean turns to look the other way.

"Yeah, I deserved it, whatever," he says. Everyone is silent for a second too long, until Connie intercedes

"I'm ordering pizza, by the way," he comments, attempting to cut the tension. Sasha contributes by joyfully jumping from the coach into her boyfriend's arms

"Fuck yeah, pizza," she exclaims, kissing Connie on the top of his head. Connie's smile is almost blinding. Jean looks away from them, feeling a tad awkward just standing there. 

Meanwhile, Eren Jaeger continues to stare at him. Now though, he looks at Jean with pity, which is actually somehow worse. And the way in which Mikasa is draped on top of him makes Jean feel weirdly jealous. Not of her and not of him, but of them, as a thing. Them as Eremika, or whatever Reiner called them. Jean doesn't like being envious but he can't help it when everybody seems to have someone who loves them when Jean might have just lost Marco.

He realizes that he's been staring back at Eren for a while now and quickly averts his gaze.

"You got any alcohol? If I'm going to spend couple's night all on my own, I'm going to need it," he says.

Connie seems to be busy, attempting to speak with the pizza parlor while giving a bubbly Sasha a piggyback ride, but he somehow manages to handle all that and point towards the fridge.

"Drinks come later. Beers in the fridge," he says. Jean just sighs.

He will not survive the night sober, that is for sure. And perhaps he should be concerned about the amount of alcohol that he has consumed in this last week.

But if he drinks then he'll forget that he should be concerned and it all adds up nicely, really.

"This is going to be a long night," he groans, but accept the offer of beer.

"Bring me one, please," Armin says.

"Make it two," Sasha shouts, still perched upon Connie. Jean takes three beers and opens them. He sits next to Annie after handing one to Armin. Everyone is still quiet, strangely enough. Jean knows this people and they cannot shut up for more than three seconds so he is a tad surprised.

"Hey, Connie, do you have a stereo so we can play some music?" Eren chimes up suddenly. Connie shrugs distractedly, still on the phone.

"There's one in your room, bro," Sasha tells him.

"Okay. Yeah. And one with pineapple," Connie says, and then moves the phone away from his mouth "Can you go to the room and fetch it for me?"

Sasha hesitates and gives Eren a look. They stare at each other and Eren shakes his head. Jean finds it all very odd.

"Actually," Sasha says quietly, "I was thinking we could both go look for it. In your room. Together." And as if the message wasn't clear enough, she slides her hand down Connie's chest. Connie immediately finishes the call and runs towards his room, Sasha half-hanging on his back.

After a few seconds, Eren speaks up.

"We're planning a prank on Connie," he says prideful. Jean raises an eyebrow at that.

"What kind of prank?"

"It's less of a prank and more of a karmic retribution," Armin states. Annie next to him nods.

"Yeah. What he said," Eren agrees.

"Okay, but what the fuck are you doing?"

"You know how Connie is weirdly obsessed with Shrek and kept changing my ringtone to Shrek songs?" Eren says.

"Not that I recall but that does sound like Connie."

"Anyway, when Connie asks us which superhero movie we want to see, we will all say we'd rather see a horror movie. It's my revenge."

"Why is that vengeful?" Jean asks, clearly out of the loop.

"The point is," Annie says slowly, "that Springer hates horror movies very much. More than Jaeger hates modern pop culture."

"I don't hate pop culture," Eren scoffs, sounding slightly offended, "I'm just slightly out of touch with it."

"He had never watched the Lion King until two days ago. Or any Disney movie for what matters," Armin chips in.

"I've watched some. I think I watched Bambi once. That's the one about the ex-soldier that kills people and shit right?"

Jean has to keep himself from slapping Eren at that moment.

"Rambo. You're talking about Rambo you fucking McNugget," he informs him.

"Man, they sound about the same. Also, why a McNugget?"

"Your stupidity was so powerful that my brain had a momentary meltdown and I couldn't come up with a real insult."

"Stop bullying me, Jean," Eren says firmly before breaking down and laughing. It's stupid, but Jean ends up laughing too.

Connie and Sasha come back at that moment, both a bit flushed and smiling giddily. Connie connects his iPhone to the large stereo he brought and 'All-star' begins to play. Everybody groans as he obliviously sings along.

"So," Eren whispers to Jean, looking positively murderous, "you in?"

Jean doesn't even have to think about it.

"Most definitely," he says.

And that's that.

*

*

*

Half an hour later, Jean is nursing his second beer. He's having fun, albeit a wary sort of fun. Because at the back of his mind, Marco is ever-present and every time he laughs at a joke he wonders if Marco would have laughed along with him.

He starts sulking a bit at some point, not intentionally. He doesn't want to be the one who brings the party down, but it's hard to smile when he doesn't really feel like it. He starts to wonder if coming was a mistake.

"Stop moping. It's unbecoming," Annie tells him, punching him square on the shoulder. He's sure she meant it to hurt.

"Unbecoming? Well that's uncalled for," Jean complains teasingly.

"Your attitude is uncalled for," Annie answers sharply, but there's the hint of a smile on her lips.

"I'm tired," he says and it's not a lie, not really.

"You're sad," she tells him, and it's more of a statement than a question.

"That too, yeah."

"Let's go outside," she says and stands up, not waiting for Jean to follow. But of course, he does follow.

They exit Connie's house and sit on the porch. Jean takes a cigarette out of his pocket and offers it to Annie, who shakes her head. He lights it up.

"What is happening?" She asks him, just as he exhales the smoke.

"Nothing? I don't know." Annie sighs in frustration.

"Men are too complicated," she says, which makes Jean laugh.

"How so?"

"You idiots are really not in touch with your feelings. You are too dramatic when it comes to these things," she says, and she steals Jean's cigarette right out of his hand.

"What things?" He asks her as she smokes. She shrugs.

"All things. Friendship. Family. Romance. It is not that hard really. If you love someone and they love you back then be their friend. Or their lover."

Jean raises and eyebrow at the word 'lover' but Annie speaks four languages and he is in no place to tell her that it sound kind of weird.

"Really now? Is that how you and Armin got together? And when did that even happen?" Annie returns the cigarette to him before smirking.

"I did not like Armin. He was too nice to me," she tells him, and Jean can't help but think of Marco.

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It's not. I liked that he was kind. But he is too smart too. And that scared me, I guess," she says, turning to look the other way.

"Why?" Annie shakes her head.

"It doesn't matter. He told me he thought I was pretty. It just happened, I don't know. He makes me blush and I hate him for that but I also don't," she says. She looks small then. Well, she is tiny, but something about her viciousness and her snarky attitude always made her seem larger and distant. She feels reachable now.

"It's not usually that easy," Jean tells her.

"No, I guess it's not. I just have my way of seeing things. If they don't like me, then I lose my interest. I am not going to waste my time. Or my heart, for what matters."

Jean finds Annie's philosophy laughable. He cannot, for the life of him, imagine falling out of love with someone. Or stop loving a friend just because they hurt you. Things just don’t work that way, but Annie seems to think they do and she looks so unaffected by it all that Jean could almost believe her.

"You don't get to choose the people you love," he says, and he cringes at that, because it sounds terribly tacky. Annie looks at his face and laughs, that giggly laughter that doesn't sound like her at all. Jean quite likes it.

"I am pretty sure you stole that from a movie, Kirschstein," she says and Jean laughs too.

"Possibly. But it's true, really."

"Ah yes. It is true. But I think you can choose how much you let those feelings get to you."

"See, I'm going to politely disagree with you in that," he tells her, and he throws the butt of his cigarette somewhere in the bushes.

"You are just too weak, that's all," she says. Jean shakes his head.

"I'm realistic. Well, pessimistic."

"Is that why you need Bodt around? Does he balance you out?" Jean turns to look at Annie, who is staring back at him, one icy blonde eyebrow raised in expectancy.

"I guess. But, no. I need him because I don't think I can be myself without him. Not completely, not really."

"Like a chemical compound..." Annie starts and Jean puts a hand up to stop her.

"Please don't go all science on me. There's a reason why I need tutoring in Chemistry. And Physics. And Biology."

"But it is all chemistry and physics and biology when you think about it. Why you feel how you feel, why you bruise and why you drink and smoke and trip on your feet and fall."

"See, now I understand why you and Arlet are made for each other." Annie half smiles at that.

"I think Marco loves you in that way," she says slowly, testing.

"In what way?" Jean asks, but he knows already.

"In your way. I think he loves you as much as you love him. It's in the way he sees you. It's in the way he punched you too."

"Look, I don't know what S&M thing you're into, not that I'm judging..." Annie interrupts him by shoving him hard.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do. But I still don't get how come you know." It unnerves Jean just how much she seems to know, to understand. Her eyes are too clear and blue and he wonders what _she_ can see that most can't. He wonders if she's usually silent, not because she dislikes them, but because she prefers to listen.

Annie must have more secrets at her age than most people have in their whole lives.

"Girls are smarter, too," she tells him and smirks. Jean laughs.

"I think I actually agree with that statement. By the way, please do humanity a favor and never ever bring that noxious vodka to a party. I had the worst hangover ever." Annie rolls her eyes at that.

"Maybe that had to do with the fact that you have a bruise the size of my country on your face."

"Stop making fun of my face," Jean complains and Annie just punches him on the shoulder again, although by now Jean understands that that's her way of showing she cares for him.

He kind of pities Armin.

They stay quiet after that, sharing one last cigarette while looking at the cars pass.

A gaggle of giggles distracts them, breaking the silence. They look up to find a bunch of kids staring down at them.

"What are those?" Annie asks, sounding mildly put off.

"Children. Connie's siblings."

"Ah. They look cute."

"You don't actually think that do you?" Annie smirks.

"Eh, they don't seem that bad."

"Are you two going to kiss?" one of them asks, a little girl it seems.

"Okay, I take that back," Annie says deadpanned. Jean laughs.

"Why, you want to see it?" Jean asks back. All the kids make a chocked sound, clearly disgusted, before disappearing inside the house.

"We make a good team, Kirschstein," Annie comments.

"Why, cause we're both assholes?" She laughs.

"Exactly."

*

*

*

Historia arrives in her SUV with Reiner and Bertolt. Reiner laughs when he sees Jean's bruise, although Jean himself has a hard time finding anything funny about it.

"Man, he really fucked you up, huh?" He says and Jean huffs in response.

"Nah, it isn't that bad. I think it's kinda hot actually," Historia tells him, pinching his cheek, the one that isn’t horribly bruised.

"I recommend sunbathing, exposing it to the sun makes it go faster. It doesn't work for hickeys," Reiner tells him before laughing again. Jean ignores him.

"Where's Ymir?" He asks Historia. She smiles and shakes her head in response.

"At Zacharius bachelor party."

"I can't believe that that was for real."

"Yeah, tell me about it. We've been friends for years and I still have trouble understanding how, like, she manages to get in all that stuff." Jean half-smiles and they all settle on the couches.

"Being late isn't a very princess-like attitude," Armin reprimands her in jest. Historia courtesies and it seriously looks like the real thing.

"I certainly apologize, my dear," she says with a smirk. They laugh and Jean feels someone bump against him.

"Marco?" Reiner asks him in whispers. Jean shrugs and that seems to be enough answer.

Connie decides it's time to settle and he ushers everyone into the TV room. There is a huge, ugly couch where most are able to settle in. Annie and Armin settle on the floor, pressed against each other.

Jean catches Bertolt staring at them, his face grim. He remembers what Reiner told him last night, and he can't help but feel for the guy.

Jean sits on the couch and Connie sits next to him. He looks like he's about to say something but they are interrupted by Sasha who flops on top of them both.

"Man, I am starving," she whines. Connie shakes his head fondly at her.

"We have to wait for everybody, babe," he tells her. Sasha sighs melodramatically.

"I am dying," she says weakly. Jean pokes her on the cheek. She pokes her tongue out.

"Aren't we all already here?" he asks cautiously.

"We are waiting for Marco," Connie says slowly.

"He said he wasn't sure about coming."

"He texted me some minutes ago. He said he was coming, bro." Jean turns to look at Connie surprised. He grabs his cellphone from his pants and looks at the screen. No new messages. He opens his conversation with Marco just in case but no, he hasn't written anything since that last message.

"Oh, okay," Jean mumbles and when he looks down, Sasha is smiling sadly at him.

"I'm sure he forgot to tell you, bro," she says softly. He nods but he doesn't believe that and probably nor does she.

Marco is the kind of guy who always text, to tell you he got home alright or to ask why you’ve missed school or what you're doing on the weekend or if you want him to give the homework's answers.

"He'll be here in a few minutes, bro. Don't worry," Connie tells him.

Jean isn't sure whether Marco coming is good or not, because he suddenly feels like this wasn't a good idea after all. He feels Sasha caressing his left hand.

"Calm down, it's gonna be alright," she says, "He can't stay mad at you more than you can stay mad at him." He flicks her on the forehead playfully in response and she squeaks in protest.

"Don't be sappy," he tells her. She glares.

"I am adorable. And I don't deserve this."

"She is. The cutest, ever. No competition," Connie agrees. Jean rolls his eyes at all the cheesiness and pushes her upwards and away from him gently so he can stand up.

"You are the literal spawn of Satan, Sasha Brauss," he tells her teasingly. She shrugs.

"That don't mean I can't be cute." Jean laughs and shakes his head.

"I'm getting another beer," he says and turns towards the kitchen.

"Hey, drink responsibly, bro. And bring me one, while you are at it."

Jean simply responds with a smirk.

*

*

*

The 'couple of minutes' that Marco was supposed to take are actually half an hour. Marco is not the sort to be unpunctual. He is forgetful, out of pure clumsiness, but he never forgets about others.

Besides him, Sasha's stomach rumbles and she moans in pain.

"Look bros, it's not like I'm not having a marvelous time, cause I am, but can we please start eating?" Sasha says. The pizza arrived a long time ago, but Connie is so convinced that Marco is coming that he hasn't allowed anyone to touch it. Not even Sasha.

"Not yet, babe," he tells his girlfriend.

"But babe," Sasha complains.

"Sorry, babe," he says while shaking his head mournfully.

Jean rolls his eyes at the displays of affection and at the notion that Marco is coming.

By this point he can barely believe it. But then again, Marco's behavior has been so erratic that he barely knows what his next move will be.

It's not like Jean has acted any better, anyway.

"Are you sure he's coming?" He asks. Connie opens his mouth, about to rebut Jean's comment, but the bell rings and he only turns to him to give him the smuggest of looks.

Connie goes to open the door and Sasha quickly grabs hold of Mikasa to help her get the pizza and re-heat it.

Eren blatantly takes that opportunity to stare at his girlfriend's ass (are they dating know? Who know and who cares, really) as she walks out of the room.

"Pervert," Jean mumbles mostly in jest and Eren eyes him unimpressed.

"If you tap the ass, you can admire the ass," Reiner comments, punching Eren on the shoulder on a gesture that is probably brotherly but seems painful.

Jean can see how Reiner and Annie are friends now.

Jean is about to make some stupid, sarcastic comment but he goes quiet when the door opens and in come Connie and Marco, trailing behind and seemingly unsure.

He's wearing a burgundy t-shirt with a sort of tight fit and black pants and even if he looks undeniably tired, he looks good. Like, really good. Jean almost hates him a bit for that.

"Sorry I'm late, I couldn't find my car keys. I bought some donuts for everyone, though," he excuses himself in typical Marco-fashion.

Jean never realized how much he knew about Marco and his mannerisms until he started changing them. It's sad really.

"I could have picked you up, if you had asked me," Jean blurts out for some stupid reason and immediately regrets it. Marco looks at him and then turns away.

"Yeah, I wonder why I didn't ask," he says, but he doesn't sound angry, he just sounds sad and regretful and so tired and if Jean's heart wasn't already in pieces it would probably break a bit more.

Jean barely registers the fact that everybody is staring awkwardly at the scene taking place while he keeps his eyes trained on Marco and Marco tries to look him in the eye without flinching.

"So, I'm going to bring the DVDs and we can start watching one of the movies. I thought we should start with Thor," Connie says suddenly, attempting to dismiss the situation. Everyone turns around and pretends that the tension in the room is so strong it's about to snap.

"Well, this is going to be fun," Annie whispers, placing her head against Jean's leg. He lazily kicks at her, but she only shrugs and head-butts him back.

"You can sit next to me," Historia tells Marco. She is on the sofa, along with Reiner, Eren, Bertolt and Jean and there honestly isn't much space, but Marco smiles at her and moves towards the sofa. He seems to take a second to consider everybody before sitting in between Eren and Jean.

Eren raises an eyebrow at that and Jean is about to say something too (although what he is gonna say isn't clear) but Sasha kicks open the door and starts whooping loudly.

"PIZZA MOTHERFUCKERS!" she shouts, rising above her head a bunch of huge pizza boxes. Everyone cheers along with her, even Annie. Jean is still stressed out about where to put his arm while sitting pressed against Marco (the answer is usually around his shoulders, because it's comfortable and they used to think it was a funny, cliché romantic position, but Jean isn't too sure about that now) so he just smiles tightly.

He does manage a genuine smile when Marco immediately steps up to help serve everyone around him, instead of digging right in like most do. Jean eats four pieces but he isn't really hungry and his stomach is feeling all sorts of twisted. The awkwardness of being next to Marco without even speaking to him does dissipate, especially after everyone starts chanting 'Eat! Eat! Eat' to Sasha who piles four slices and eats them much like a normal human being would eat one.

While they eat, Connie attempts to put the Thor DVD on the DVD player but Mikasa quickly slaps the movie out of his greasy hands. Connie looks at her oddly and attempts to grab the disc but Reiner lounges for it and hides it beneath him.

"Okay. What the hell?" Connie wonders out loud. Historia snickers and everyone attempts to act innocently. Marco, who hasn't been informed of Eren's revenge, just looks at them confused but vaguely amused.

"You know what sucks?" Jean says out loud.

"What?" Eren asks smugly.

"Super hero movies." Connie's reaction is immediate. He clutches one hand against his chest and stares at them, betrayed.

"What are you saying, you infidel? Super hero movies are the fucking shit, okay bro?"

"Meh," Annie says simply.

"Okay, Annie, you don't get a say in this because everyone knows that Russians are freaking super villains," Connie tells her, pointing an accusing finger at her.

"Wrong," Armin states simply, "Black Widow is a super heroine. An awesome, Russian super heroine."

"Okay, see? Super heroines are awesome, right bros? Everybody likes Black Widow right?" Everybody stays quiet.

"I'm actually more of a Batman fan," Reiner says. Connie nods slowly.

"Okay. Yeah, not Marvel. But we can work with that we just..."

"I like Usagi from Sailor Moon," Mikasa says quietly but firmly.

"That's not... She doesn't count bro." Connie is starting to look slightly frustrated and Jean almost feels sorry for him. Almost.

"What, isn't she a super heroine?" Jean asks and Connie nods furiously.

"Of course, yeah but this isn't..."

"I like Hawkeye, he has a bow. Oh and Katniss Everdeen, she's cool too," Sasha intercedes.

"I know babe but..."

"I like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Except for Raphael. He's kind of a dick," Armin interrupts.

"Bro, Raphael is the coolest one what are you even saying," Eren argues, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. Sasha laughs at that and Connie is probably about to have a mental breakdown.

"Okay. Cool. Okay. But can we just think of superhero movies. Specifically Marvel movies. Like Ironman. Ironman is cool right?" Connie suggests. Everyone immediately boos Connie's idea. Eren continues to smirk at it all.

"You know what would be better than Ironman?" he says, bright smile getting wider, "Horror movies."

Connie looks shocked and then utterly horrified.

"No way, I'm not watching that stuff. Sash, protect me," he says, desperately turning towards his girlfriend who shrugs half-heartedly.

"This is a democratic state, bro. What the people want is what the people get," she says. Realization hits Connie like a brick then.

"I never thought you would betray me like this, bro," he says sadly.

"You know how revenge works Connie," Sasha tells him seriously. Connie nods, swallowing before turning towards Eren.

"I see. So this is... Because of Shrek," he whispers sadly. Eren shrugs.

"Then I don't regret it," Connie says, shaking his head, "Shrek is love. Shrek is life." Jean can't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

"Yeah, and I still don't get that reference," Eren says, "So, Texas Chainsaw Massacre anyone?" He pulls a bunch of DVDs from the pocket of his hoodie and everyone cheers.

"Fine. You've won this time," Connie says as he opens the DVD player, "but... someone should get the cake and the donuts before we start." Sasha nods solemnly.

"Eren and I will do it," Mikasa volunteers quickly. Eren looks surprised.

"Alright," he says slightly confused and stands up to walks towards the kitchen.

Behind them, everyone catcalls and whistles, laughing as they leave.

"Boy oh boy, I hope they use protection," Sasha says.

"I doubt that they'll have sex in there, Sasha," Reiner says amused.

"Umm, bro, my parents conceived me in a kitchen so have a bit of respect for them, yeah?"

"Why the fuck do you know where your parents conceived you?" Jean asks bewildered. Sasha rolls her eyes.

"Duh, cause I asked."

"Conceived in a kitchen," Armin muses, "that does make sense, actually."

"Right?" She says cheerfully.

"She's totally lying, bro. She was conceived on the back of her dad's car," Connie comments. Sasha elbows him on the ribs.

"Bro, why you gotta be like that?"

"You betrayed me first."

"Yeah, you deserved it. For trying to make Eren join your Shrek cult. The poor boy doesn't even know what Disney is, you're like an eagle attacking a baby deer or some shit."

"That doesn't mean that your betrayal wasn't hurtful, Sasha," Connie tells her seriously before laughing.

"Dork," Sasha whispers affectionately.

"God, when are you two going to stop being so cute?" Historia squeals.

"Ummm, never," Connie tells her, pouting his lips. Marco laughs at that and Jean smiles at that sound. It's strange, as much as he knows he loves the sound of Marco laughing he doesn't really remember how wonderful it is until he hears it again.

When did he fall in love with Marco, really? Has it only been a week or has it been a slow process that started years ago and only now his feelings have grown like favorite flowers he can't ignore anymore?

It has been a tumultuous week to say the least. But he can't help but feel like the idea of being in love with him has been around for longer. A song he has always liked, but now he can hear all its subtleties, all the notes of all the instruments and the rise and fall of the singer's voice. It sounds even better than it did before.

"Honestly, how long are those two going to take?" Reiner complains.

"Should I go check if they are actually making babies in there?" Historia asks and Jean wonders if she has ever said the word 'fuck' in her life before remembering she very much did so at the start of the year when she won the race for school president, although she immediately apologized afterwards.

"I'll go check," Marco volunteers and Jean raises an eyebrow at that.

"You wanna see if you can catch them doing the dirty deed? That's kind of pervy man," he jokes before his brain alerts him that they are not even in talking terms, much less in 'insulting your friends because you love them and it's funny' terms. Marco actually seems to forget that to because he smiles and seems to have a comeback on the tip of his tongue, but he bites his lip at the last moment.

"I'm sure they're just talking," he says and he walks out of the room.

"Oh yeah. Just talking. Is that what the teenagers call it these days?" Armin asks.

"Are you actually an 80 year old man in disguise, Arlet?" Jean asks him.

"He is certainly as fast as one," Annie comments off-handedly and everyone starts laughing and hooting.

"Oooh, man, you got him bad Annie," Connie says, laughing hard.

"At least my girlfriend didn't betray me, bro," Armin says, raising an eyebrow at him. That shuts Connie up.

"That's cold bro."

Mikasa comes back at that moment, carrying the cake Historia brought over.

"Where's Jaeger?" Jean asks which really is just him asking where Marco is.

"Chatting. With Marco. Lazy asshole," she says softly placing the food on the table. Jean vaguely wonders just what the hell those two could be talking about.

"Where's the donuts?" Sasha asks concerned. Mikasa just gestures vaguely towards the kitchen. Sasha nods.

"WHAT THE FUCK, WHY AREN'T YOU FUCKHEADS BRINGING THE DONUTS?!"

"Dang, baby , chill," Connie tells her, putting a hand on her shoulder. Sasha takes a deep breath and nods.

"I just want a maple bacon bar, man."

"I know. I know."

Marco and Eren come in at that moment, carrying boxes of dozens of donuts. Eren turns off the lights on his way to the sofa.

"Bless you Marco Bodt," Armin states. Connie begrudgingly presses play on the movie, cuddling closer to Sasha who looks genuinely happy with a donut in each hand.

Marco and Eren settle on the sofa. The place is tight and Marco is pressed up against Jean's side.

Jean, unfortunately, still hasn't figured out what to do with his arm. And now it's trapped in between him and Marco, who is currently on the phone texting someone.

Jean feels dreadfully jealous for a second, wondering if he is texting Peter. But his phone vibrates just seconds later and he reaches his pocket to look at it.

 

**Marco Polo:**

You can put my arm behind my back. If you want to

 

Jean stares at the screen for some seconds, then turns to look at Marco who is staring expectantly at him. Jean texts back 'Okay', but he keeps his arm where it is. Marco looks at his phone, sighs, and looks at him again. Jean puts his arm around Marco, careful not to touch him too much. They look at each other for a second, but quickly turn back to face the screen just as the protagonists' car breaks down.

"Cliché," Jean mumbles.

"I'll say," Marco whispers back and Jean smiles a bit then.

It's a start.

*

*

*

To be honest, Jean doesn't care for horror movies, he enjoys them, sure, but he isn't particularly interested in them. Armin too seems slightly uninterested, but Annie by his side laughs every time someone dies in a gruesome way. Eren and Sasha both seem be enjoying the movie as well, even Historia seems to be having a good time, while Reiner and Mikasa look both bored out of their minds. They just talk to each other and roll their eyes at the special effects.

But Eren's revenge plan is a triumph, because Connie is freaking out at every sound and he actually screams at some of the jump scares. Bertolt looks equally distraught and while Marco is silent by his side, Jean can feel how tense he actually is.

When he turns to look at his face illuminated by the glow of the TV he can see the concern on his eyes as the characters decide that splitting up is the best course of action.

But the first movie is just a slasher and what really creeps out Marco are the ones with supernatural themes.

Which is why when Eren unveils the second movie (a Japanese ghost movie that even Mikasa seems to approve of), Jean turns to look at Marco to see if he wants to see it or not.

Marco turns to look back and, although he hesitates, he finally shrugs.

Eren puts the movie on.

And yeah, Jean must admit that it is a rather creepy movie. But halfway through it, it actually becomes sort of terrifying. One boy gets in bed with his girlfriend, at some point, and Jean can feel Marco shivering besides him.

When the girlfriend turns around and of course, it turns out she's actually the ghost, at least half of the people present in that room scream.

Marco gets so scared that he grabs Jean's arm and buries his face in his neck.

Jean's brain kind of haywires. He feels Marco breathe against his neck and he flinches away quickly. Marco moves away too and he turns to look to the side. Even if the room is dark, Jean can see him blushing deeply and he wonders if Marco can see him blushing too.

He wants to say something, perhaps about how they shouldn't be embarrassed or angry at each other or so anguished about everything that's been going on but he doesn't know how to even start to say that.

He turns back to face the screen just as the guy gets decapitated by the ghost and a blood gushes out of his neck.

But the carnage is interrupted when Eren stands up covering his view of the TV.

“Hey, Jean want to take a smoke break,” he whispers attempting to sound casual. Jean narrows his eyes at that.

“You don’t smoke, Jaeger,” he whispers back. Eren just stares at him intently. In the end, Jean just sighs and plays along with the charade.

They go outside, to the porch again. Jean feels a bit light due to the beers he has drunk. He lights up a cigarette, inhales deeply, and attempts to offer one to Eren who shakes his head. Jean arches an eyebrow at that.

“Then what the hell do you want?” he asks and Eren seems to consider this for a second.

“You’re in love with Marco Bodt," he states.

And then silence.

Jean takes a whole lot of time to really process what he said.

He considers it. Mulling it over. Thinking it over.

Eren Jaeger thinks he is in love with Marco Bodt.

Eren Jaeger is not fundamentally wrong.

But Eren Jaeger isn't supposed to know that he is indeed in love with Marco Bodt.

“What the fuck." Jean feels like this situation is getting out of his hands. It's like everyone seems to understand it better than him. Even Eren seems to have a better grasp of the situation than he does. He turns back towards the house, but Eren grabs him by the shoulder and pulls him back.

“Wait, wait. I was just trying to help you, like you helped me. You know, talking. About feelings. And stuff. Bro to bro,” he says. Jean is not in the mood for this shit, at all.

“Don’t bro me, Eren Jaeger. I am not discussing this shit with you,” he tells him, perhaps more angrily than he intended.

“But I get you. I know what it’s like to fall in love with your best friend. I mean, Mikasa and I…”

“It’s _not_ the same!”

Jean did not mean to shout that. But the angers that he felt seconds ago dissipates and what is left in him turns to cold guilt and shame.

“I know it’s not the same,” Eren says, his tone calm and irritatingly pleasant. It does make Jean feel better but he hates that.

“What do you want me to do? I’m not sure about this, you know, gay thing, even though I know that I like him. And I don’t want to lose him as a friend either,” he says, surprising himself with the sincerity with which he speaks.

Eren nods. He seems to consider his words carefully, which is something Jean would have never expected from him.

“Listen," Eren says calmly, "what you’re doing right now? Shutting Marco and being kind of an asshole? Not helping. You need to talk this stuff out with him. Maybe break some stuff. That seems to help too. The last thing you want to do is lose one of the most important people in your life. And that’s exactly what you’re doing right now."

“I know. Shit," Jean says, and he does know, it's just so different when someone says it out loud, "I’ll talk to him tonight."

“Yeah, don’t do that, actually," Eren says suddenly, startling Jean.

“Why not?”

“Thing is, Marco is in love with you too. So if you guy’s talk, then you might get together. And you know, I’m already planning on getting together with Mikasa tonight. So if you didn’t steal my moment, that’d be great,” he answers rapidly. Jean barely has time to process any of that.

“What the fuck, you guys got together last night!”

“No. Connie and Sasha got together last night. Mikasa and I haven’t even kissed. So stop trying to steal my thunder. You can have Sunday for you and Marco.”

“I’m not programming my love life to fit into your schedule Jaeger, what the hell.”

“I will literally break your arm off and beat you to death with it,” Eren says, almost sweetly. The look on his face makes Jean think that he isn't even kidding.

“Okay, bro, chill. But for fuck’s sakes, kiss her tonight or else I will not be held responsible for my actions."

Eren gives him a confident nod and Jean sighs.

“You’re actually pretty cool, you know Eren?”

“Last night you wanted us to be besties,” Eren tells him, smirking.

“Forget what I just said,” Jean says and he turns to walk back into the house. But he stops on his way to the TV room, because one of the things that Eren said finally permeates Jean's mind.

_Marco is in love with you too._

Jean wants to turn back and ask Eren just how the hell he knows that. Or if he just made that up to give Jean some faux-confidence. He's about to walk back when he feels pressure on his bicep. He turns to find Historia, smiling prettily, grabbing his arm.

"You okay? You looked kind of lost," she informs him sympathetically. Jean sighs.

"Just thinking," he tells her. Historia nods.

"Getting lost. Thinking. It's the same thing sometimes."

"Deep." Historia giggles.

"Yeah, right? Come on, everybody is starting to get wasted without us."

"Those assholes," Jean mumbles and Historia laughs again. They walk into the TV room together, where Sasha and Connie, having pushed every one off the couch, are kissing and giggling one next to the other.

Jean stops to look at Marco, who is sitting on the floor while flaking off the label of a beer bottle. Bertolt says something then and he laughs.

Jean tries to read his beaming profile, the way he presses his chin against his chest when he laughs instead of throwing his head back. How he bites his bottom lip when he tries to stifle his laughter. How tears form on the commissure of his eyes when he laughs too much and his face goes red.

He imagines, for a moment, that he is able to tell if someone loves him (and how someone loves him) just by looking at the way that person smiles at him.

But it's a stupid thought. He sits down next to Marco, who turns to briefly smile at him, before turning back to listen to Bertolt intently.

Marco is the kind of person who will listen to what you have to say, no matter how dull or silly other's might think it is.

Jean has always liked that about him.

"I need someone to like, suggest we play truth or dare. Cause I'm gonna make Eren motherfucking Jaeger eat some goddamn dog food, bro!" Connie announces suddenly. Jean laughs.

"I'll do it. Jaeger always picks dare," he says, and probably he's kind of an asshole for helping Connie with his revenge plan after Eren's motivational talk, but in a way it might be a good test to see how serious Eren is about Mikasa.

And Eren shows up then, staring at the scene before him. Everyone drinking and laughing and Connie and Sasha now making out again, apparently.

“I leave for a moment and this place turns into a sinner’s den, for Christ’s sake,” he says. Connie moves away from Sasha and raises his hands in the air joyfully.

“Everyone’s here! Let’s play some games,” he exclaims. Eren laughs, unsuspecting of it all.

"Alright, what sort of game should we play? Never have I ever? The ice cube game? King's cup? Would I lie to you?" Historia asks, riling everyone up with each suggestion. Connie turns towards Jean and winks at him. Jean nods.

“How about truth or dare?” he says casually.

“Yeah, truth or dare!” Sasha exclaims drunkenly excited.

“All right then,” Historia says, “truth or dare it is!” Everyone cheers, but Connie moves quickly and he points towards Eren.

“Eren, truth or dare?”

Eren looks taken aback, but before he can open his mouth and make his choice, Mikasa grabs him by the shoulder

“Pick truth,” she warns him, “he’s planning on making you eat dog food if you pick dare.” Connie looks appalled.

“How did you know?”

“You shouted your ‘secret’ plans as soon as Eren left,” Reiner says, laughing boisterously. Jean can see that he's already pretty drunk and he wonders vaguely how much a guy his size must drink to get that drunk.

“Oh, yeah,” Connie says, nodding solemnly.

“I choose truth,” Eren says and Jean nods proudly.

“Dammit, fine. Have you and Mikasa had sex yet?” Connie asks. Mikasa glares at him, like only Levi could glare at another human being, and Connie seems to immediately regret his question.

“No,” Eren answers simply. He turns to Sasha.

“Truth or dare, Brauss?”

“Dare. Who do you take me for? Only cowards choose ‘truth'."

“Was that supposed to be insulting?” Eren asks. Sasha smirks.

“I dare you to put one of the big donuts in your mouth, whole,” Eren proclaims. Sasha scoffs.

“Amateur,” she says, and Jean has to agree with her. Sasha is almost like a boa constrictor, and he's pretty sure that if she tried hard enough she could unhinge her jaws.

Sasha does manages to put a chocolate donut the size of her face in her mouth, munching gleefully much to everyone's distraught. Connie, on the other hand, looks strangely turned-on which is causes everyone even more distraught.

“Historia, truth or dare?” Sasha asks once she’s done swallowing her donut.

Jean is pretty sure she's going to choose truth, but she seems to consider her options for a second.

“Dare?” she says, more of a question than an answer. Sasha smiles.

“Prank-call Mr. Smith.” Historia gasps.

“I don’t have his number,” she says nervously.

“Ask Ymir,” Reiner states, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Historia does text Ymir and receives and answer merely 20 seconds later.

“Got it,” she mumbles, “also, got a picture of Mr. Bossard and a stripper.”

“Ymir must be having a fascinating night,” Armin states.

“Send me a copy, bro,” Sasha tells her, “but first, prank-call the Smith.”

Historia takes a deep breath and hits a button on her phone. She shushes everyone before putting the phone on speaker. After four rings, someone picks up.

“Hello?” Mr. Smith's voice comes smooth and clear from the other side of the line. Muffled rap music can be heard in the background. Historia turns towards Sasha with the desperate eyes of a Disney character that just lost her parents or some other Disney-like tragedy.

“What do I do?” she mouths, covering the phone with her hand.

“Tell him his there’s been a delay with his weed shipment,” Sasha whispers back. Jean thinks she sounds far too self-assured for this to be her first time.

“Hello Mr. Smith,” Historia says, giving her voice the usual charm she uses, “We are sorry to inform you that your weed shipment will arrive a bit later. We thoroughly apologize."

There is silence for an excruciating moment.

“Oh, alright,” Mr. Smith responds calmly, “when will it be arriving then?”

“Holy shit,” Reiner whispers, “he can’t be serious.”

“Blaze it, Mr. Smith,” Connie says solemnly. Sasha glares at them and shushes them.

“It will arrive next week, we presume,” Historia informs Mr. Smith, clearly growing more confident.

“Can you remind me again, was it Purple Kush or Blue Dream that I ordered?” Historia pauses at the question and stares at them. Everyone shrugs and Sasha makes some strange hand gestures.

“Purple Kush?” Historia ventures.

“Really? I thought it was Blue Dream, give me a second,” Mr. Smith says. His next words aren't clear enough and he seems to be talking to someone else.

“My partner here wants to have a word with you,” he says suddenly.

“Sure." For a long while, everyone in the room goes quiet. Mr. Smith seems to have vanished. Then there is the distinctive sound of a phone being grabbed.

“You fucking fucks are calling your principal and thinking he won’t notice?” Levi’s voice comes, stark and absolutely terrifying.

“SHIT!” Sasha shouts, throwing herself to the floor as if running for cover.

“You little bastards should be glad that I’m at this stupid fucking bachelor party or else I’d be paying all of you a visit. But I guess I’ll just see you on Monday, hope your fuckheads sleep well tonight because I’m going to have you all running laps for the entirety of the class. Little shits."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“And remember, you don’t need drugs to have fun. Get high on life,” Mr. Smith comments before hanging up.

Everyone is quiet once again, before Annie clicks her tongue in annoyance.

“Thanks, Historia,” she grumbles.

“Wasn’t it Sasha’s fault, though?” Armin argues.

“Yeah, I feel better blaming her. Thanks, Sasha,” Reiner says. Historia looks mortified for a moment but soon she starts giggling uncontrollably.

“Oh my God, that was really funny, even if Coach Levi will probably murder us on Monday," she says excitedly, "Let’s keep it going! Bertolt, truth or dare?” Bertolt's eyes widen in shock.

“Truth,” he mumbles. Jean nods because he wouldn't pick dare either by this point.

“Who of the girls here present would you most rather have sex with?” Historia says, cherubic smile in place.

Bertolt opens his mouth to answer, then shuts up. He turns to look at the girls around him, but his eyes mostly skim everyone and they rest on Annie for a tad too long. He blushes profusely, especially when he realizes that Armin is staring at him rather unamused.

“I-I’d choose you,” Bertolt tells Historia.

“Are you saying that because every other choice would mean someone else would probably beat you up?” Historia asks not unkindly.

“Yeah. But, but you’re really pretty too,” Bertolt says blushing. Historia winks at him.

“Thank you." Jean turns to see Marco and they exchange a look. For a second there it's like the old times and he forgets that they aren't in the best of terms.

“Reiner, t-truth or dare?” Bertolt asks, blatantly changing the topic.

“Dare,” Reiner say. Bertolt turns around, looking at the others for suggestions.

“Make him drink something gross,” Connie says. Reiner smirks.

“Oh, bring it,” he says. Sasha smiles maniacally, clearly overjoyed by his answer. She runs towards the kitchen like an excited, giggling child. and runs towards the kitchen.

She returns with some frothing, viscous liquid the color of awful things, with white chunks floating in it.

“This better not contain peanuts. I’m allergic to them,” Reiner states, visibly shaken.

“It’s cute how you think I put something as normal as peanuts in that shit,” Sasha says, winking at him.

All of Reiner's bravado has been absolutely erased. His face looks rather ashen and Jean is sort of enjoying this.

But Reiner is also spectacularly drunk, so he grabs the glass and swallows most of in one big gulp.

His eyes widen in horror at some point, when he seemingly starts chewing something.

He starts retching; quickly reaching for the bottle of rum, possibly to burn his taste buds and sear the pain.

“That’s disgusting. Oh God, it had bits of… something. It was chewy,” he mumbles. Historia looks absolutely put out.

“Please don’t describe it,” she squeaks.

“Fuck, gross," Reiner says. He turns then, to look at Jean and he smirks. Jean swallows.

"Marco, truth or dare?” he asks, one eyebrow raised.

“Truth,” Marco says, scared after the last couple of pranks.

“Dull,” Annie whispers. But Jean looks at his terribly cocky smile and he can't help but feel that that's exactly what he wants. The curve of his lips is far too dangerous.

“Marco, who’s the last person you made out with?” Reiner asks and Jean's heart jumps up his throat. Marco next to him tenses.

He wonders how come Reiner knows that it's not Peter but him. He's the last person to have kissed Marco.

Jean is going to fucking kill him.

“Can’t we change the question?” Marco asks, discomfort clear in his voice.

“No, those are the rules," Reiner slurs, "Come on, Bodt. I heard you got frisky last Sunday. Afraid of dropping names?”

“Please,” Marco pleads. Reiner rolls his eyes.

“Fine. Then I dare you to…”

“It was me,” Jean intercedes. Then he takes a moment to consider his words and condemns himself silently for his recklessness.

A part of him is actually ecstatic that he managed to say the words out loud. A more reasonable part of him, though, is more than appalled.

But there's no going back and he's already said too much. Everyone is staring at him, waiting for an explanation. Except for Eren, Annie and strangely, Connie, who look a bit smug and a tad happy, perhaps.

“Marco and I made out on Sunday," Jean finally says. He turns to Reiner then, who looks far more shocked than he has the right to be.

"And you saw it, I know. So now you’re being an asshole about it, congratulations,” he finishes wryly.

“Oh my God, that literally explains everything,” Historia says, but Jean really can understand what the hell it explains.

“Shit, it does,” Sasha agrees, “So you guys are…”

“Jaeger, truth or dare?” Jean interrupts. Because this is not something that he should tell them. And he needs to speak with Marco first.

He hasn't even turned to look at his reaction yet. He just can't face this right now.

“Hey, it’s Marco’s turn,” Connie says.

“No, it’s Eren’s. Right now, it’s Eren’s,” Jean repeats and he looks pointedly at Eren. Eren, who is still a terrible at understanding social cues it seems, takes a couple of seconds to understand that Jean is lending him the spotlight. But when he does get it, he nods solemnly. A bro nod.

Jean hates himself for thinking that.

“Oh. Right. Thank you,” Eren says.

Jean turns towards Marco, still avoiding looking directly at him before whispering in his ear.

“We’ll talk about this later,” he tells him. He feels Marco nod next to him and deems the situation sort-of salvaged.

“Well, Eren,” Marco says, more at ease, “truth or dare?”

“Dare,” he states confidently.

“Dare you to kiss Mikasa,” Jean proposes rapidly. Marco is taken aback for a second, but he nods.

"Sure, let's go with that," he says cheerfully, bumping his shoulder amicably against Jean's, who has to restrain himself because he really wants to kiss him right then and there.

“Oh come one. That one is easy, it’s not like they haven’t kissed before, right?” Sasha says, rolling her eyes.

Mikasa and Eren both have the dignity to look slightly mortified.

“Holy shit,” Connie whispers.

“It’s like I always said,” Annie says, looking smug, “Ackerman is slow. As. Fuck.”

Mikasa glares at Annie before turning to Eren.

“Do it, then,” she says sounding confident. Eren just stares, eyes wide.

“Come on Jae-ger,” Armin says and starts clapping. The rest of the guys join him in his chant, including Jean himself.

“I… I can’t,” Eren says.

There is a terrible, embarrassing silence before for which Jean wants to beat him up, before Eren reconsiders his words.

“No, I didn’t mean that! I mean… come here,” he says and he grabs Mikasa’s hands. He helps her to stand up and they run towards the corridors.

“Connie, where’s your room?” he says.

“Second door to the left!” Sasha chimes in.

Jean laughs at the absurdity of it all.

“I said just a kiss, Jaeger. Kiss!” he shouts back but gets no response.

"Horny assholes," Armin says sadly, shaking his head in dismay, but with a smile on his face.

Jean pities him because he only had to stand Jaeger's oblivious and obvious crush for like a week but Armin, well, the poor sucker has been dealing with that shit all his life.

"Aye, let's celebrate with a bottle of champagne. And by champagne I mean apple cider cause Mr. Long Dong does not piss money ladies and gentlemen and everyone else," Connie says drunkenly. Sasha laughs.

"Need some help?" she asks. Connie nods.

"Yeah, come here Jean. Help Daddy get the champagne." Jean sighs.

"Only if you stop calling yourself Daddy. Or Mr. Long Dong. Honestly." He stands up regardless, missing the body heat that Marco provided, as stupid as it sounds.

"Alright sweet cheeks," Connie tells him as he stumbles to the kitchen. Jean follows behind.

Then Connie turns to look at him sober as fuck.

"You stud, you," he says smiling brightly and Jean is so confused that all he manages is a weak 'thank you?'

"Holy shit, bro," Connie continues, "how drunk were you last night that you don't remember you telling is about making out with Marco!"

Jean has had too many surprises in his short life. He's going to die young, he can tell.

"What the fuck, when?"

"When Jaeger-bomb, you and I were weeping on the balcony about our love lives. You told us you were totes in gay love with Marco Bodt. Come on, bro."

Jean shakes his head in disbelief.

"Holy shit. And Jaeger even thinks that he figured that out by himself. And he was so proud, too." Connie shakes his head.

"Yeah, no. You told us man. I'm proud of you, hey. But you seriously need to talk to him."

"I know! Everyone keeps saying that, goddamn," Jean sighs. Connie nods fervently still smiling.

"I'm just happy about my bros getting laid. And also happy that I was the first one."

"Well, I made out with Marco first so technically I win," Jean argues. Connie laughs and punches him before looking at his wristwatch.

"Oh it's almost midnight," he says.

"Past your bedtime, huh," Jean teases him. Connie rolls his eyes at him.

"Asshole. I need to bring the mattresses from upstairs. And wait until Eren and Mikasa are done grinding to retrieve half of them," Connie says. He turns towards the door, to go back to the TV room, but Jean stops him.

"The apple cider,” he reminds him. Connie nods and retrieves a bottle from the fridge.

"You coming, bro?"

"In a second," Jean tells him. Connie nods again

"Sleepover, fuck yeah," he sings enthusiastically before going back to the TV room. Jean laughs. Then he sighs.

He takes a look at the kitchen. He's been here twice now, in the same day but in very different situations.

It gives him vertigo, thinking how quickly it all has changed. He looks at the clock above the oven, the small and big hands almost reaching the number 12.

Saturday is almost over and Sunday will be here shortly and that always makes him feel sad for some reason.

The sound of the door opening distracts him from his musings. He turns, expecting Connie at the door.

Instead, he finds Marco, who shuts the door behind himself. The look at each other for a second, both unable to say anything. Then Marco smiles, feebly.

"Hey," he says quietly, "do you think we can talk now?"

Jean takes a deep breath, and takes one last peek at the clock above the oven.

It is already midnight.

**  
**


	8. Us, in motion (Sunday)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter!!  
> Thank you for all the lovely comments and the kudos guys, I'm glad you enjoyed the story :)

 

“Do you feel a real light?

And you'd give anything to reverse

Because now you've found your purpose

The one place to surrender

The one place to surrender

I've got you in my heart yeah

I've got you in my soul yeah

A wild fire in the darkness

Just burning on and on yeah”

-Wildfire by Jonathan Jeremiah

 

The weather is nice outside. Jean can feel spring creeping over winter, the wet warmth of it settling over the crispiness of the cold. He takes a deep breath, and Marco besides him does the same. They turn to look at each other and laugh because really, it’s all a bit absurd. Things weren’t supposed to be this way but then again things have never gone Jean’s way.

“I believe I owe you an apology,” Marco says softly, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

“For what?”

“I mean, I did punch you in the face Jean.” Jean shrugs.

“I did deserve it.”

“No, not really. I mean, I never knew I could punch so hard, honestly,” Marco continues. The harsh white lightning in the veranda makes Marco’s face too clear. Jean can see his ear turn bright red, embarrassed or ashamed.

“I was a dick, yeah. I… really hated seeing you with that guy. Peter, I mean.” Marco nods slowly.

“Yeah, you made that pretty clear. I broke it off with him though.” Jean is admittedly taken aback by that.

“Why?”

“Because you are more important to me than he is, you’ll always be. You know that,” Marco says. And Jean has to look away, because the sincerity in his words is too much. It scares him how easy it is for him to say such things.

“That’s no reason to break it up.”

“You’d had done the same thing for me,” Marco tells him confidently. Jean can’t even try to deny that.

“Anyway,” he continues, “I didn’t really like him that much. I guess I just liked the fact that he liked me. Which is terrible, I know.”

“I don’t think it’s terrible. It’s human. And I mean, especially when you are gay, right?” Marco just stares at him. “Okay that came out _really_ wrong, what I meant…”

“I know what you meant, Jean,” Marco laughs, not unkindly, “You’re right, kind of.”

They stay silent after a moment, but it’s no longer one of those uncomfortable, awkward silences. It’s just the two of them, feeling the warm breeze and attempting to assimilate what the other meant and what the other feels. Jean sits on the stairs of Connie’s porch and, after a few seconds, Marco joins him.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Jean says honestly.

“I know that,” Marco reassures him. He head-butts Jean softly on the shoulder, and Jean does the same to him.

“Can I ask you… why did you hate Peter? I know it’s not because you were uncomfortable with it. At least I know that now.”

Jean turns his head up and sighs deeply. He turns to Marco who is looking at him, vaguely amused.

He knows that he promised Eren he’d give him this night but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. And, technically, it’s Sunday already.

“First of all,” he starts, “I didn’t like him because of his personality, alright. Like, he just seemed very pedantic. And self-involved. And he looked like an evil meerkat when he smirked.” Marco laughs at that.

“He was unusually meerkat-like, wasn’t he?” he muses. Jean nods.

“Bro, totally. But there’s something else…” He goes quiet after that, and after a couple of seconds Marco turns towards him.

“You okay? You look a tad pale.”

“Yeah. I’m trying to find the right words. I… I was jealous? Of Peter. In a way.” Jean internally curses at himself because who couldn’t have been more unclear if he tried but Marco nods besides him.

“I mean, it’s not like because I have a boyfriend or something I’m going to spend less time with you. You’re my best friend.” Jean exhales in frustration.

“See, that is _not_ what I meant. Marco, I wasn’t jealous because I thought you were going to forget me or something I just, I didn’t want him to date you. Or anyone else, really. Which is awful, but I’m trying to be honest, okay?”

Marco just stares at him, clearly confused and Jean closes his eyes before turning to look at him directly in the eyes.

“Thing is, I’m in love with you.” Marco seems to consider this for a second.

“Like, as a friend?”

“What? No. I am _literally_ in love with you. How can you be in love with someone as a friend?”

“I don’t know. Like, you really appreciate them or something. So you are in love with me in which way?”

“I’m in love with you in all sorts of way. Friend, boyfriend, whatever you want me to be.” For an excruciating moment, Marco considers this in silence.

“… I don’t get it,” he says. Jean groans and falls back against the floor of the veranda before sitting up again and grabbing Marco’s face between his hands.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks. Marco’s eyes go wide open.

“Are you drunk?”

“No. Trust me.”

“… Okay.”

Jean doesn’t make a move right away. He comes closer to Marco, so that their faces are merely inches apart. They look at each other as Jean waits. Then, after a moment of hesitation, Marco closes his eyes and Jean locks their lips together.

It’s a chaste kiss, just the press of their lips, but it helps to make everything feel more real. Jean hadn’t realized that his heart was beating so hard until now. They stay like that for a while. Jean brushes his thumb against Marco’s cheek and Marco puts his hand on top of his, holding it carefully.

They pull apart after that, but they remain close to each other, still holding each other.

“That’s… is that like an ‘I wonder what kissing my gay friend is like’ thing or..?”

“Oh. My God. Marco, for fuck’s sake what do I need to do in order for you to understand I’m in love with you? Do you want me to suck your dick? I’ll suck your dick. Right now. I’m not sure how well will that go, but I’ll fucking do it.”

Marco pulls away then, face red but he starts laughing then.

“Jean, oh my God, no! I just… I don’t know I guess I didn’t expect that.”

“Man, this is the third time I’ve kissed you. Like, this isn’t really coming out of the left field or anything,” Jean tells him and he starts laughing too.

“Yeah, but I thought… so am I like the exception to your straightness or something?”

“Yes. You know who else is an exception to my straightness? James Franco. And his brother. And Avan Jogia. And the guy behind the counter at Chipotle’s. And Joseph Gordon-Levitt but mostly because I like his personality, he seems cool. And that’s not even half of them.”

“That is a lot of exceptions,” Marco tells him amused, “I also now understand why you liked ‘500 days of Summer’ so much.”

“Excuse you, I like that movie because it’s excellent. Whether Joseph looks hot while dancing to Simon and Garfunkel is absolutely irrelevant.”

“So you’re like… bisexual?”

“Possibly. Probably. Honestly, the only thing that I am 100% sure right now is that I love you.” Marco smiles, at that and Jean can’t help but think of how ridiculously adorable he looks when he blushes like that.

“I love you, too,” Marco whispers quietly, and Jean can’t help but grin like an idiot because that’s pretty much all he wanted to hear.

“In a friend way?” Marco rolls his eyes at that.

“Shut up,” he says but there’s no malice to it and when he turns to look at Jean again he smiles and he kisses him again. Jean kisses him back and he hugs him closer while Marco puts his legs on Jean’s lap and threads his fingers through his hair. They stay like that for a while, exchanging lazy kisses, nothing like the sloppy, drunk messes they shared before.

Although Jean will admit he rather liked those too.

“This is so weird,” Marco whispers after a while, “like, I never expected you liking me like this. I’ve always… Jean, I was so scared of feeling this way for you.” He seems to reconsider his words then, because he shakes his head.

“Okay, this is embarrassing. It’s not like I’ve always had a crush on you or anything it’s just, I’ve always, I don’t know, wondered how it’d be like? To be more than just friends.” Jean hugs him closer.

“I was scared too, when I realized it. I’m still scared, knowing who I am. Having to come out and shit. But what frightened me the most was the idea of telling you. I was sure you were going to think I was bluffing or reject me and I’d lose you as a friend and then I would have to spend the rest of my life alone.”

“You know, for someone who is very unromantic you are incredibly melodramatic” Jean huffs at that.

“I am incredibly romantic. I’ll sing to you. I’ll write you poems. You have no idea what you’re getting into.”

“Calm down there, Romeo. Take me on a date first.”

“Of course, I’m an absolute gentleman. Are you free tomorrow?”

“Wait you’re seriously taking me out on a date?

“I’m not taking you out on a date. I’m taking you out to the date of your freaking _life_.” Marco laughs.

“When you say tomorrow, you mean today right or Monday?”

“Today. Tomorrow Levi is going to kill us so we need to do this while we’re still alive.”

“I’d totally take you on a ghost date, though,” Marco tells him and Jean snorts at that. His face is actually starting to hurt from smiling this much. He loves it.

“Oh, wait. We can’t tell anyone about this for now,” Jean says. Marco nods.

“Yeah, of course. I mean, I came out to my mum already and some of the guys and girls. But you don’t have to do anything until you’re ready.”

“Oh no, I didn’t mean that. I mean, at least with those guys I’m totally okay with coming out. It’s just I promised Eren I’d let him get this night to get together with Mikasa and I don’t think he’d take it lightly if we took the spotlight way from him.”

“And let’s face it, we’re a way cuter couple so we’d totally be the center of attention,” Marco jokes. Jean chuckles but he absolutely agrees with that statement.

“We should get going back inside now, though. We’ve been here for like an hour,” Marco tells him. Jean just groans in response. “Seriously, Jean.”

“I love the way you say my name, have I told you that before?”

“I love saying your name.”

“Oh come one you can’t expect me to just get back inside and pretend you just didn’t say that. That’s cruel, man.” Marco squeezes Jean’s cheek and disentangles himself from him to stand up.

“Come on,” he says, lending him a hand.

“ _Marco_ ,” he whines.

“ _Jean_.”

“But…”

“No buts.”

“Just butts,” Jean finishes and Marco shakes his head at the joke. He steps inside the house only to turn around at the last moment.

“Maybe butts,” he says, “if the date goes well.” Jean is almost stunned to silence before he bursts out laughing. He stands up and they go inside the house, back to pretending they aren’t too idiots crushing hard for each other lest they wake Eren Jaeger’s fury.

Jean does kiss Marco one last time before going back to their friends. And if they can tell what just happened by their goofy smiles, well, it was still absolutely worth it.

*

*

*

 They don't sleep, not really. Well, some of them end up giving up at some point or other. Reiner goes out first, followed by Historia and Bertolt.

The rest of them decide to go out for a walk in the dark, prompted by Armin. They don't walk that much thought, because they stop when they reach a small playground a couple of blocks away. Sasha and Eren run for the swings while the rest of them pile into a small wooden house. It's a tight fit, so they all end up sort of sprawled against each other. Jean is sort of confused by how comfortable they all seem to be, including himself. Before this week, he'd never really been this close to any of them besides Marco.

It's rather nice.

"Man, I can't believe this will be our last year together," Connie says, looking at his girlfriend attempting to swing higher than Eren.

"Right. Thanks for making everything depressing in a quarter of a second," Jean tells him dryly.

"Yeah, that's the kind of thing we expect from Jean," Marco jokes. Jean glares at him, with no real malice.

"I'm serious, bros! I'm trying to be sentimental for a second, okay? We're all going to different colleges in different states. No more weekday nights breaking stuff. No more parties at Historia's. No more football matches, bro!"

Jean kicks him on the shin, not too hard, but it makes Connie yelp.

"Honestly, stop that." Connie puts his hand up in surrender.

"Alright, alright! I just feel a tad lost, you know? Sash and me... I don't think we really know what we're doing."

"Does anybody know?" Mikasa asks. Everybody stays quiet for a second.

"Deep," Armin murmurs, nodding.

"Shut up, you know exactly where you're going, man. You've got brains," Connie grumbles.

"It's not just about that, okay? So you know what you wanna major in, great. But are you willing to move a considerable distance away from your friends?" Armin says, "All of you assholes are staying in Cali, meanwhile catch me freezing my ass up in Massachusetts, 4000 kilometers away."

"Didn't you say you hadn't decided yet?" Eren asks alarmed, flying off the swing. He lands with a loud thump and turns accusingly towards Armin.

"I haven't! It's between MIT or Stamford, like Annie." Annie grunts noncommittally.

Jean turns towards Sasha, who is still on the swing set but no longer swinging. She seems to be listening to them attentively, but she's unusually quiet.

"We've got time to worry about this stuff," Jean argues, rolling his eyes. They all sigh and stay silent for a moment.

"We are way too stressed about this shit," Eren mumbles, sitting next to Mikasa and putting an arm around her shoulders.

"You are actually incredibly lax about it," she comments.

"Mr. Smith must have shared his stash with him," Marco comments. It takes them all a moment to remember Historia's dare but they burst into laughter just a second later.

"It's nice that we laugh now because tomorrow we're going to die, probably," Sasha pipes up, still swinging.

"Sash, come up here!" Connie calls her.

"You come down here," she shouts back. Connie sighs, going down a slide connected to the playhouse to meet with her.

"I need to stretch my legs," Marco excuses himself. He stands up and looks meaningfully at Jean, who gets the message and stands up.

"Let's go for a walk." Jean and Marco both climb off the little wooden playhouse and start walking away from them.

"Where are you two going, bro?" Connie asks.

"We're gonna walk around," Jean tells him, already walking away.

"Don't get lost, suckers," Sasha yells.

"We won't," Marco shouts back. Jean puts his arm around Marco's shoulder, a position he dims sufficiently casual to be seen as friendly and not romantic. Marco leans into the embrace as they walk away.

Jean likes walking late at night on the streets, when no passerby or passing car can disrupt, when the streetlights are the only source of light and you can walk down the middle of the road without endangering your life. It's nice. It's nicer still when your best friend/boyfriend is walking next to you with an arm around your waist. Jean seriously thought this would be a thousand time more awkward but it is strangely natural. After all, it's just like the old times. Plus kissing. And other stuff which he doesn't need to worry about right now.

Except he's Jean Kirschstein so of course he's going to worry about it right now.

"Can I ask you a question?" He asks. He can feel Marco's cheek pressed against his shoulder and it fits beautifully.

"Shoot."

"You've kissed other girls before me, right? But like, have you kissed other guys?" Marco falters a bit in his steps but shrugs casually.

"Some, yeah,"

"Other stuff?" Marco pauses and sighs. He turns to look at Jean with an eyebrow raised.

"Why do you wanna know?"

"Cause," Jean says shyly, "you know I've never done that stuff, so like, maybe I'll suck at it. Literally." Marco laughs and he presses closer to Jean. He kisses him on the mouth, soft and precious and Jean really likes not being the one to initiate this.

"I haven't. So I guess we're both newbies at this. And we can take it slow," he says. Jean nods and he kisses Marco back on the tip of his nose.

"Wow, losing our virginities to each other. How do you think that's going to be?" Jean asks, accidentally tripping on the smooth pavement somehow and almost throwing both Marco and him to the floor in the process .

"Knowing us, awkward and painful."

"And here I thought you were going to say romantic."

"That is weirdly optimistic of you, Jean."

"That is strangely cynical of you, Marco." They both laugh, pushing at each other and looking probably like two idiots.

"It'll get better, I'm sure," Marco tells him, "with time and practice."

"And lube." Marco can't glare properly, but he certainly attempts to right then. Jean shrugs innocently.

"I meant love."

"I'm sure you did." Jean breathes out a laugh and kisses Marco again. And again. And then again because he can and how freaking cool is that?

"Is it weird if I say I'm really happy right now?" he asks Marco, faces still close together. Jean can't see but he feels Marco's brow furrow.

"Why is it weird?"

"I don't know. It feels weird to say you're happy and actually, completely mean it."

"I don't think it's weird. Are you really happy?" He doesn't even need to consider the answer for that.

"I'm really happy, Marco Bodt."

"That's good, Jean Kirschstein. I'm really happy too."

*

*

*

Reiner, Bertolt and Historia are up and playing Mario Party on Connie's old Gamecube when Jean and Marco get back to the house. The rest have scattered, still outside and probably making out behind a bush. That's exactly what Marco and him were doing seconds ago.

"Wanna join?" Reiner asks, sobered up and know properly apologetic about the whole situation. He offers Jean the controller as some sort of peace offering.

"No," Jean tells him bluntly and almost rejoices at the way in which Reiner flinches before instantly feeling bad for the guy (and that's definitely Marco's influence, the bastard).

"No," Jean continues, "I'll play with Historia. And I'll beat your ass so badly you will remember it for weeks."

"That has got to be the gayest threat I've ever received," Reiner tells him, half-smiling. Jean rolls his eyes at that.

"I highly doubt that," he tells him.

It's not like he's going to start being friends with Reiner now or anything but he really wants to just get rid of all this messy conflict. And it's not like he's a bad guy or anything. He clearly means well, although his methods leave much to be desired.

Historia and him do beat Reiner's ass in the end, and they tragically trample over Bertolt who really can't play for shit. It's a pretty pacific game (although Historia is rather competitive and Jean almost punches Reiner in the balls after he steals one of their stars).

Marco stays out of it all preferring to watch and let Jean rest his head against his shoulder, which no one comments upon. It's actually for their good that he doesn't play. Marco is the sort of guy who claims he's never played that game before and proceeds to scorch your ass as soon as he touches the controller. It's one of his least endearing qualities.

The rest of the 'sleepover' is spent doing everything but sleeping. When the rest of the people get back (except for Annie and Armin who according to a text Armin sent have been 'just taking a walk' for the last couple of hours) they start a game of poker. Instead of betting they take shots or perform silly dares, much less extravagant than the ones they did before.

They bake brownies at some point. Watch 'The Pineapple Express'. Ymir keeps sending them pictures of the bachelor party.

They watch the sunrise, which makes something oddly nostalgic resonate throughout Jean.

They leave before lunch, most of them at least. Jean would love to bring Marco home with him, even if only to nap by his side (and there's always been something very comforting about sharing a nap with someone). But they each have their own cars parked outside Connie's so they each have to go their own way. Marco promises to shower and come visit. They are supposed to have a date tonight but Jean isn't going to last much more if he doesn't sleep.

"I'll be there in 30 minutes tops," Marco tells him, opening the door of his car. Jean nods. They look at each other for a second which is admittedly awkward. But then Marco laughs, eyes squinting and cheeks going a pretty shade of pink so Jean obviously has to lean in and kiss him.

"You fucking bitch, you totally got together last night, didn't you?"

Jean turns to find Eren Jaeger glaring at him and he shrugs in response.

"It was technically after midnight. So it was Sunday."

"That's not how it works, you stupid horse-person," Eren whines and Jean shrugs.

"Details," he says, vaguely gesticulating.

"Come on Eren, play nice," Mikasa says, grabbing him from behind and dragging him towards the car. Eren continues to glare at him through the window of the car.

"What's all that about?" Marco asks him, looking adorably baffled. Jean shrugs.

"It's kind of a long story. I'll tell you later," he says, unable to contain a grin. Marco shakes his head in mock dismay and gets in his car. Jean gets in his own car, turning on the radio for once. Maybe he'll find something new he'll like. His open to that sort of things now.

*

*

*

His mum and dad are watching the French news when he arrives. She seems seconds away from saying something, so Jean quickly kisses them both hello and runs upstairs to avoid that. He showers, slowly and calmly. He washes his hair twice attempting to escape his mother's words. She'll probably try to start his punishment now, but he needs the car today. He'll probably have to confront her sooner or later.

Thankfully, Marco arrives right after Jean is done dressing up. His mum loves Marco, perhaps more than she loves Jean himself (not really, probably, but she does like him a lot).

When Jean goes downstairs she's already pampering him, offering him everything she can find on the fridge and the pantry, asking him about school and saying she missed him.

"Mum, you are smothering him," Jean tells her. She turns to glare at him while Marco smiles innocently.

"No she isn't," he says, acting all sweet and nice. Jean rolls his eyes at that act.

"He's tired," he insists, giving Marco 'the _look'_. Marco cocks his head obliviously before laughing and standing up.

"Yeah, we didn't sleep much last night," he excuses himself.

"You came over to sleep?" His mum asks, looking doubtful. They both shrug.

"Yeah, and like, other stuff..." Jean attempts to elaborate.

"Homework," Marco adds helpfully. Jean nods at that.

His mum looks unconvinced, but let's them go without voicing her doubts. Jean wonders briefly if she suspects of the nature of his relationship with Marco and what she thinks of it. He doesn't want to think about coming out right now, though.

Once they get to his room, Marco closes the blinds and Jean locks the door which might seem suspicious but he doubts his mum will just come barging in. He turns around to find Marco kicking his sneakers off before settling on top of his bed.

"Does this mean we're sharing a bed?" he asks demurely.

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Hot." Jean laughs.

"I mean, I'm just gonna snore most of the time but yeah, super hot."

"Oh, come on, your snore is like white noise by this point in our relationship," Marco points out and Jean has to laugh at that. He forgets, sometimes, how all-encompassing his relationship with Marco has been. They are constants in each other lives in ways so intricate that, no matter what happens, they'll always remain entangled in each other. It's strange, he considers, to have someone so deeply ingrained in your life in such a devastatingly big way. It's terrifying and oddly comforting at the same time.

Marco pushes his hand through Jean's hair to grasp his attention.

"Over thinking something?"

"As usual," Jean says, a smile playing on his lips. Marco puffs a breath of air before taking his pants off and lying on the bed. Jean follows suit, stripping down to his underwear and t-shirt. Marco is acting like he isn't looking but his cheeks dusted in a pretty shade of pink and Jean can't help but feel slightly self-conscious. He has seen Marco naked before but it's different now, somehow. He is more aware of him, even if he is only half naked.

"If this is too much..." Marco says tentatively but Jean shakes his head.

"It's fine. You have a nice butt." Marco stares at him baffled for a second before he starts laughing.

"This is honesty bizarre, you are supposed to be my bro," he says, struggling through the laughter. Jean stares at him awkwardly for a second.

"Are we like, going too fast?"

"Hell no," Marco say, still laughing but sounding confident and Jean can't help but agree. He lies down on the bed next to Marco and turns off the lamplight by his side. The room is bathed in darkness, but there is some light coming from the half-opened window and after a while Jean's eyes become accustomed and he can see Marco well enough.

They are both in bed, facing each other and this bed just isn't big enough for two people to lay comfortably so they have to sort of cling to each other a bit but Jean is fine with that.

Marco traces the contour of Jean's bruise with the tip of his fingers before flicking him softly on his nose.

"Why do you insist on harming me?" Jean asks him jokingly and Marco smiles.

"Drama queen."

"Bully."

"Go to sleep."

"You go to sleep," Jean says and Marco flicks him again.

"Seriously, we have like a five hours of sleep tops, if you're still fixated on your Sunday night date idea," Marco tells him. Jean groans in response.

"Jean..."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm sleeping," Jean mumbles back, closing his eyes. After a minute of silence, he opens them again to find Marco staring at him.

"What?" Jean asks him. Marco shrugs and smiles before closing his eyes. Jean waits for him to open them again but minutes pass and soon enough he can hear the faint, slow breathing of a sleeping person. He looks at Marco for a while more. He tries to count his freckles, but it's too dark. He brushes his knuckles against his cheek and sighs.

At some point, he falls asleep.

*

*

*

The blaring alarm wakes them up (shakes them out of sleep, really) and they both groan in unison before pushing themselves off bed.

"Shit," Jean says eloquently and Marco hums in agreement. It's 8 pm and it's time to go. They get dressed quickly and walk down the stairs, avoiding the third step that always creeks.

Jean's mother is watching the TV and Jean's dad is probably in his study, listening to horribly French pop music from the eighties. Jean points towards the kitchen. Marco shakes his head.

"We are not leaving without telling your parents, Jean," he whispers. Jean sighs.

"Man, there's no way they are lending me the car this late on a Sunday night. Especially not after Friday night. It's a miracle I got it yesterday."

"We can walk to my house and get mine, it's not a problem. But you already have detention next week, you really want to be extra grounded?" Jean rolls his eyes but silently agrees.

"I'll ask my dad, he may be a bit more permissive," he says. They stare at each other for a second before nodding. Marco moves towards the kitchen and Jean towards his father's office.

And he indeed finds him there, nodding his head to the euro-pop rhythms he enjoys so much. Jean shakes his head in shame. Where did he get his excellent taste from? Approaching quietly, he lowers the volume to grab his dad's attention.

"Hey, dad. I kinda need the car for something tonight," he says slowly, carefully. His father stares at him for a second before pausing the music and turning back to him.

"It's Sunday," he states simply. Jean nods.

"I know. I'll be back early, I promise."

"Your mother said you're grounded." Jean inhales deeply before spiraling into an improvised speech of sorts.

"Dad," he starts, “I don't expect you to understand completely, but this very day could change my life as I know it. This day could be the day I tell my children about, or my dogs, or whatever. We'll figure that out later. But this could be that one day I look back to many years from now. Important, yeah? I know that you have no reason to trust me after what happened on Friday night, but I am begging you both as a son and as a person in need, to lend me the car keys for one day and one day only."

There is a prolonged pause as Jean awaits for his father's answer.

"Go ask your mother." Jean huffs in frustration but nods. Of course. He turns back to leave just as his dad puts Michel Sardou back on.

He starts heading towards the kitchen when he hears the unmistakable sound of his mother laughing. He moves towards the living room instead, where he finds Marco and his mum laughing while watching Cutthroat Kitchen. Jean realizes he had forgotten something very important: his mum absolutely adores Marco Bodt. As in, she would probably adopt him if she could.

Which is why he isn't surprised when she casually asks Jean at what time they'll be back, because Marco has somehow managed to convince her of, not only letting them spend Sunday night outside but also lending them the car.

Jean isn't even surprised. Marco once convinced him of going to Eren's birthday party a day after the bastard has put glue on his hair. He even bought him a present, that's how good Marco is.

So, while staring at Jean with the intensity of a thunderbolt, his mother gives in to Marco's charming smile but remains unmovable in her demands. They have to be home before midnight (Jean feels slightly Cinderella-like), and Jean will be grounded after this (although Marco is free to visit whenever he wishes to because, again, Mrs. Kirschstein is not immune to Marco's charms).

His mum does ask though where they are going to which Jean answers with " _C'est une surprise_ ," which she finds not amusing at all.

He does end up telling her, quickly and loosely detailed, about his plans for the night. But he does so in French, peeping at Marco's face to make sure there is no hint of understanding. And even though Marco has been doing French for years now, he shows no signs of knowing what Jean is saying.

Jean doesn't blame him though. His Spanish is atrocious.

He doesn't tell his mum that this is a date or romantic in any way (although Jean intends it to be so). He makes it sound like he's just trying to surprise Marco as some sort of very early birthday gift and she seems to buy it.

She produces the keys to the Subaru but keeps her grip on them for a while before handing then to Jean with a menacing look. Jean does his very best to appear harmless. She finally clucks her tongue and nods her head, indicating they should leave before she changes her mind.

They both hug her before rushing towards the door. They get in the car, Jean in the driver's seat and Marco next to him in the passenger seat.

"Where are we going anyway?" Marco asks as Jean plugs in his iPod. He starts the car and shrugs.

"It's a surprise," he says. Marco rolls his eyes, attempting to stifle a smile.

"Yeah, that much I got."

"Bless the American school system."

"So you're not telling me, are you?" Jean is quiet for a moment. He turns to look at Marco in the eye and Marco looks back at him. Then, slowly, Jean shakes his head.

"No," he says solemnly before starting the car and driving away.

*

*

*

Jean doesn't start to panic until they cross the city limits. They've been driving for half an hour and they are almost there. Marco stares at him suspiciously the whole trajectory.

But what truly unnerves Jean isn't his inquisitory eyes. It's the fact that he didn't plan this date for shit. He does have a sort of vague idea of what they are going to do but:

1) He had planned to do this later, in summer, when they didn't have to worry about exams and the weather was hot, when the grass was green and the air was filled with its scent and,

2) He never thought to take Marco here as a date, but as a friend.

He starts to wonder whether the idea is romantic enough, or if it's too suggestive or too cheesy. He wonders if the place will even be open or as fun as he made it out to be in his mind.

Marco must sense his nervousness because he puts his hand on Jean's shoulder, which makes him flinch, so stuck in his terrible thought process that he forgot of Marco's existence altogether.

"Chill," he tells Jean, "I can see the smoke coming out of your head."

"I am chill," Jean blatantly lies. Marco sighs.

"You are Jean Kirschstein. You are never chill."

"I am. Sometimes. When I need to be."

"You take everything too seriously," Marco says, not unkindly.

"You take everything too lightly." Marco laughs at this.

"What a pair we make."

"We're like, puzzle pieces bro. We fit together," Jean says, in a pretty decent impersonation of Connie flirting. They both laugh and grow quiet after a moment.

"Really, though," Marco says softly, "I like that you worry about things. It just shows how much you care. It's nice."

"Hey, I like that you are so trustworthy. You always see the good in everyone. I wish I was half as kind as you are."

They go silent again, both now a bit flustered, because it's always strangely embarrassing to be this honest with someone.

"We're almost there," Jean announces to dispel the tension.

"I can't believe you didn't blindfold me," Marco chastises him in jest. Jean huffs and turns towards him.

"Okay, like, close your eyes until I tell you to open them or..."

"Holy shit, is _that_ where we're going?!"

Jean can’t help but grin so hard his cheeks ache because, yeah, _that_ is where they are doing.

He totally managed to find a drive-in theater that plays actually good, retro movies that isn’t hundreds of kilometers away. This has been on both of their bucket-lists since Marco’s mum made them watch Grease.

The place is lighted up and some cars are already crowding the place, so Jean allows himself to let out a sigh of relief. Miraculously, things turned out well without him having to freak out about them. The Movie Gods must be watching down on them.

“Man, oh my God, how the hell did you find this place?” Marco asks, visibly ecstatic.

“By lurking on the internet for what seemed like ages. It was closed on winter but now that the weather is heating up they start playing old, artsy movies and popular foreign films. The blockbusters are played on summer, so don’t expect Titanic or something like that.”

“Shut up, man, stop acting like that’s a bad thing. You know I’m almost as much of a hipster as you are,” Marco says and Jean rolls his eyes at that.

“Fine. I don’t even know what movie they are playing, though,” he warned. Marco shakes his head. He hasn’t stopped smiling since he spotted the drive-in theater.

“Even if it’s terrible we can just make fun of it. Who cares? It’s not about the movie, Jean.”

Jean turns towards Marco for a moment.

Marco, who always drives him everywhere, blasting music on the stereo while they sing along to it loudly. Marco, who attempted to defend Jean from some bullies in primary although he was only 40kg of skinny limbs and freckles. Marco, who took Jean to see ‘ _Les Choriste_ ’ in French and with no subtitles to a tiny, indie cinema, even though he didn’t understand any of the dialogues. Marco, who smiled and handed Jean a napkin when he cried during half of the movie.

And now also Marco, whose smile Jean can feel press against his lips each time they kiss, who somehow, despite being one of the most wonderful, gentlest and most beautiful human beings in the world, has fallen irrevocably in love with Jean.

“It’s not about the movie,” Jean repeats as he pays for their tickets and parks the car inside the drive-in theatre. He has no clue about which movie is playing. He doesn’t even  look at the screen as the music starts and the title is displayed. He’s too busy looking at Marco whose eyes are trained ahead. And when Marco turns to find Jean staring and smiles while whispering his name in _that_ way, Jean is too busy pushing Marco towards him in order to kiss him to see the main character make their entrance on the screen.

It’s not about the movie. It’s not about the movie at all.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be updating once a week since I have most of it all written.  
> For some background music, check my playlist:  
> http://8tracks.com/sofpica/you-are-the-song-i-can-t-get-out-of-my-head
> 
> All comments and criticisms are appreciated.


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